


Five Days with the Boxmans

by ParasiticEye



Series: A Family for a Reason [1]
Category: OK K.O.! Let's Be Heroes
Genre: Also full of, Alternate Universe - Human, Angst, Dysfunctional Family, Family Fluff, Fluff, Foreshadowing, Gen, Inaccuracies, LOTS and LOTS of corny, M/M, Mild Language, Mystery Character(s), Parody, Slow Build, Slow Burn, and lots of, i think, if it's not to obvious? haha, mild violence, references, vague time sequence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-05
Updated: 2018-08-03
Packaged: 2019-05-02 12:22:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 38,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14544654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ParasiticEye/pseuds/ParasiticEye
Summary: Human AU!In the small town named Lakewood Turbo, a family of nine resides in it. The Boxmans face different sorts of trouble: self-conflict, society issues, and family issues. They seem to have been caught up in a Lakewood mystery too, and that Professor and his daughter, who had troubles of their own.(i'm not good with summaries lmao)





	1. Introduction

             Hey guys! This is an introductory part. First of all, I'm going to introduce you the key characters and basic info about them. Keep in mind that the siblings were all adopted, and that is a topic for later. The siblings go in order:

1.) Lord Boxman: the father of eight, he is 39 years old. He owns the Boxmore Industry for 19 years now, but it only became successful around the time Darrell and Shannon was adopted. To what the products are is up to you, it isn't too important anyway. His cybernic eye is the same, but his mutated arm is a functioning metal prosthetic. Also his name IS Lord Boxman, no joke. He can be paranoid and frantic about a lot of things,mostly people though, and he has trust issues.

2.) Ernesto B.: the eldest son, he is 27 years old. He works at the Boxmore Industry as an Executive Manager, and for being the son of the boss, he is hated by some workers. He is aware of his workaholism, but does not know how to stop it. He's also very anxious in casual interactions, but the opposite in business matters and interactions.

3.) Sara B.: the eldest daughter, she is 22 years old. She has weird habits, like digging holes for fun. While she can be wild and cheerful, she takes her jobs seriously, like some: taking care of Jethro and Teagan, managing the house and her garden.

4.) Darrell B.: he is 18 years old. Along with Shannon and Raymond, he is in Senior High in Lakewood Turbo. He is remarked as a potential artist; he can draw and make a graffiti, but it (graffiti) can be a pain to property owners sometimes. He only has one eye, what happened to the other is a topic for later.

5.) Shannon B.: she is 18 years old studying in Senior High in Lakewood Turbo. She is more of a talented fashionista than a talented makeup artist. She is described as the spoiled daughter of the family. She is growing tired of the house shenanigans and being house-bound.

6.) Raymond B.: he is 18 years old, but three months younger than Darrell and Shannon. And for that, they mocked him as a "younger brother". He is the school sports star, always acing in PE. Can be a pain in the ass when in his narcissist mode. He is more of a talented makeup artist, to contrast Shannon.

7.) Mikayla B.: she is 14 years old, still in 9th Grade. It isn't a mental illness, but she has Illeism: talking in third person. She loves anime, and is (please don't kill me) a furry. She can be weird and be unexpected sometimes, like running at the stairs but not rushing anything, or tear a paper in half just because she wants to. She's also very anxious around people, and sometimes it causes her to be weird and awkward.

8.) Jethro B.: he is 8 years old, still in 3rd Grade. He has CAS (Childhood Apraxia of Speech): he has speech delivery, pronunciation, and accentuation problems; and his spelling, writing and reading are slightly affected as well. For that, he is home-schooled with Pavel as his tutor. He does have a deep vocabulary and a general understanding of things, though. He loves reading, even with the difficulty to do so. The most frequent phrase he says, as you would guess, is: "I am Jethro", because he finds it easy to say. He uses the phrase for a lot of expression, like if he wants to get someone to listen to him and stuff.

9.) Teagan B.: he is 8 years old, still in 3rd Grade of Elementary. He has SM (Selective Mutism): he refuses to speak at most situations, especially at a social setting. His SM also comes with anxiety. He does speak to his siblings and father, but seldom and almost never. He conveys his message through actions instead. The one he mostly talks to is Sara, for some reason. He loves watching films, to contrast Jethro.

10.) Professor Venomous: the father of Fink, he is 37 years old. He is a Science teacher, an expert in fields of biology, in Lakewood Senior High. He holds the Boxman trio as his students. He is shunned out by society and dubbed as the town delinquent despite having a good educational background and having done no bad thing so far.

11.) Fink: she is 9 years old, still in 4th Grade of Elementary. She is a clever and adult-like little girl, but her rash and short-tempered attitude overwhelms it. Often a mischief-maker, but she is still bullied in school.

             Second things second: I made the time sequence and the locations vague because I am going to make myself research for accuracy (I'm not good with those). The chapter will go by Monday up to Friday in different perspectives. Supposedly, it was to be a five chapter story, but I added a lot of things and figured that changing from 11 perspectives in just one day was too long. So yeah :^) aaand as for the mystery character(s), I'm not going to add them to the tags just yet (except for Shadowy Figure, that guy's a mystery already lmao)

             Third: Watch out for those corny references and obvious foreshadows lmaaaaoo I was laughing while I was writing those. I tried to be vague, but let's see if I failed big time haha And one more thing, this will be a third person view. First person is uhhh too weird for me.

             Fourth: There will be absolutely no OCs, rest well. For minor characters, I did my best using those backgroundless characters in the show (for example, Rex Th' Bunny, Gladys, Pavel...etc.) Why? Well:(1) I thought it was a waste, (2) it was easier, and (3) just so that you can get an idea quick on what they look like and how they might be. Also, I have...bits about OCs, I'm sorry.

             Fifth: This will be a VERY slow build and the romance isn't the big focus, but it's still a vital part in this (to be more specific, Voxman). There will be no explicit violence or any sexual content, I don't know how to write those just yet. They will be facing a lot of issues, so that's why I made it into a series.

             Sixth: I am terribly sorry in advance if you spot any holes or inaccuracies, I know how bothering it can be. This is my first official fanfic that is published in public, but not my first time writing.

             So, that's it. I will post new chapters every other day, because I would have to recheck the whole stuff and revise. If you have any questions, comment down and I'll try answering. Stay tuned! :^D


	2. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A small introduction for their personalities :^)

             “Are we there yet, Dad?” Darrell popped up behind driver’s seat. Boxman flinched, almost causing him to go off the road. He exhaled loud, keeping his temper to himself for the moment. ”We’re going there in any minute now, _Darrell._ We’re almost there, trust me.” He said it more likely to himself than to Darrell.

             He calmed himself to the thought that he’d be in peace and quiet once there. Just sitting on his beach lounge chair, listening to the sea’s crashing tides by the shores and wearing his shades and hat; enjoying the perfect sunny weather without a worry.

             Unlike there in the cursed cramped van.

             In this cramped, crowded, noisy van full of noisy little kids and apparently deaf older siblings, there was absolutely zero silence. Darrell and Shannon were bickering again, something about Darrell messing up her make-up and Raymond coming to her defense. Mikayla was busy with watching her anime, the volume in maximum.

             Seeing Boxman’s furrowed brows and creased forehead, Ernesto requested to her,” Mikayla, would you mind toning the volume down? It’s too loud.”

             ‘ _Oh!_ Too loud? _It’s more than simply_ loud _ _._ It’s ground-breaking,_ ear-grating _ _\--’__

             “Ugh. Mikayla left earphones. At home.” she lowered her volume down. That didn’t help Boxman at all, still. As for Jethro, for the past thirty minutes,

             “I am Jethro--”

             “Yes, we know that! Please don’t add to the noise!” Shannon was getting hot-headed now.

             “Hey don’t be rude now!” Sara scolded, ”Was there something you needed, little guy?”

             “Ouw- ao (out)”, he pointed outside the window.

             While that was happening, Teagan remained silent by the corner--rummaging through the bags and making quite a mess. And god, those zipper and clashing noises were starting to get into his nerves. It also left him an image in his mind of the mess he’s making right now and how he would sort the things out. Again. __Again.__

__"__ Oh hey I think we’re close! Jethro just pointed out the sign outside.” Sara informed.

             “Wow, little guy has sharp eyes.” Ernesto commented.

             “Oh my gosh my makeup--” with that realization, Shannon forgot the bicker and went back in pampering her face.

             “Whoohoo! Vacation!” Darrell shouted in the van.

             “I can’t wait to play volleyball, and make losers there wallow in the pain of losing.” Raymond laughed.

             “I mean clearly--I am the greatest, after all.”

             “Just you wait, Ray-Ray! When I beat you, I am SO gonna rub it on your egoistic long-nosed fart face!” Shannon, agitated. “Hey!” he then took defense. Most likely got hurt by the comment about his nose.

             From there, another bicker was born. Another noise added to Ernesto’s self-talk, Sara’s scoldings for Teagan’s rummaging, Jethro’s slurred speech, Mikayla’s anime, and Darrell’s Darrell-ing.

             And to think _this_ is under a hot-- _scorching_ afternoon, inside a _crowded_ van with _humid_ air.

             You would say Boxman’s sudden calmness was just him realizing that “little things”, such as the described, matters so little that he would pay no attention to it if you were a common stranger. Like an adult just sitting back and letting his children be as silly and annoying as they want.

             But really, if you look deep into his eyes or actually, if you so much as speak _one word_  to him, he’d burst and explode and never exist again. This, what he-- ohh my gosh wait wait.

             “WE’RE HERE.” he said with an unnerving smile and voice as he parked the car, not really caring if he parked correctly.

             The siblings, excited, brought their respective bags, but Ernesto carrying the extra ones with him. Boxman released all the heaviness in his chest with one deep exhale, laughing manically after and raising his arms up the air because _thank the celestials_ they have arrived!

             He breathed in as much fresh air as he could, and his little daydream earlier was now within reach. Just on the tip of his fingers. Although this moment of relief had been the greatest thing to him, the sudden downpour of rain was the opposite. Literally too sudden.

             And yes. Rain.


	3. Monday: To What Little We Have

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we explore bits of the Professor and his daughter's side of the story.

             Well. Here goes another day. He drank his black coffee all the way down, grabbed his bag and papers and left the faculty. As he passed through the hallways, the students stopped their chatters. Their eyes averting, frames shrinking; even the buff jocks seemed to be shrinking too. The loud and lively cacophony in the hallway shrank into hushed conversations at the sight of him.

             He knows who he is in this school: a higher authority, more intimidating than his fellow teachers who spent years earning their place despite him being new here several months prior. He doesn’t know what drives them away, though. Was it how he looked like? How he dressed? Maybe the improper introduction he had on his first day? Or his personality overall and the strange vibes he gives off? Whatever it was, it gave him advantages: like not participating in the teacher’s “fun”, less engagement in communications, and the best of all--no student-teacher attachments.

             He didn’t like it  _not_  because kids were unbearable; he can handle kids sure, but not many _and_ not all _at once _.__ Imagine handling over forty-plus angsty, over-emotional teenagers with different personalities coming in surprise in a one whole _hour_ stuck in the _same room _.__ He shudders at the thought. He didn't like getting attached to his students for several reasons that he didn't want to think about.

             But still, this kind of power has some disadvantages too, like all things should be. They’ve become afraid-- _t_ _oo afraid _.__  Silence is bliss, but not always in his classes. His students were too afraid to recite, feeling that if they raised their hand, they would be incinerated to ashes by some laser gun hidden behind a blackboard or something. That thought wouldn’t be too far from truth if they have been in another alternate reality.

             That disadvantage was, most times, the talk of the teacher’s faculty. Sometimes he would hear “I don’t trust him” from behind or “He probably uses the scare method.” from his left.

             ”He took it too far!” another answers.

             ”I don’t even want to get near--” one says.

             ”--Seems shady-”

             Another.

             “Why wouldn’t he be?”

             More.

             “He came from outside of town after all--”

             It wasn’t all. There were a lot of bad gossips and rumors surrounding him even though he hadn’t done one bad thing in this town so far. Who were they to judge him anyway? He doesn’t care about them, and they don't care about him. Although, what he does care about is that he needed to keep a clear and clean image. All this false rumors and bad telltales can affect his job, which is one of the most important things he doesn’t really want to lose right now. Once those words spread further and reach the principal’s office-- he doesn’t even want to know.

             Once he had walked through the hallway full of stiff and frightened students, he stood by the classroom door; brushed back his hair, loosened the turtle neck, one last time and then, with a breath--

             “Good afternoon, class.”

             “Good afternoon, Professor.”

****

* * *

 

                After the school bell rang, he wasted no time to get to the faculty to sort his papers and plans and finally check out the school early. He had to take Fink home with him as early as possible to ensure that she doesn’t go anywhere after school. I mean, she’s too young for that kind of thing; she’s still in elementary after all. But something tells him that there’s still a chance that she might do it.

                She’s a little girl, but she can act mature. But most of time? Definitely bratty, but that he can tolerate. He remembered the last time she got into a fight with some rude teen. It probably left the guy trauma. The guy made fun of her: her height, her pouty not-so-scary face, and her not-so-intimidating threats. All because it started with an accidental bump that made him trip. It must’ve scraped his pride more than his face.

                He started up his car and left for Lakewood Public School. Fink never backs down a fight, not unless her father was there. That is why when he fetched Fink, he witnessed a tackled bruised teen down the pavement instead.

 

_“Now, say sorry!” a punch._

_“I’m sorry! I’ve said it already!” he put up his hands in defense._

_Her father held her wrist firm, “Fink!”_

_She tensed and stuttered,_

_"W-wha--B-boss!”_

_He sighed. Another result of her violent attitude._

_“No more words Fink. We’re going.”_

_The boy struggled to get up._

_Another mess._

_“W-whatever! You’ll be sorry someday!”_

_Right there and then, he scrammed._

             He can’t say that he wasn’t proud of Fink fighting back because he truly was. That was a trait that she would need someday. But what was wrong is that she would fight at wrong circumstances at the wrong time with the wrong person. He hoped he could do something about it at the very least. So that she wouldn’t be in all kinds of trouble all the time. Still, he’s glad and very proud to raise such a fierce daughter. And speaking of daughter,

             “Fink! Let’s go-”

             “Hey, watch it rat!” a kid with a striped shirt called out.

             “Watch what? Every holy step you take so that I can get out of your heaven’s way? I think not you wizard lizard!”

             And speaking of fierce.

             “What did you just call me-?!” the striped shirt boy snapped.

             “Fink, let’s go home.” he grabbed her arm and toddled her along. 

             When they were walking towards the car, behind them was a few mocking lines of smug children. Something along the lines of “Yeah rat. Go home!” “To your dumpster home!”. Fink was clenching her fist. He knows how she must be feeling right now.

             Low. Helpless. Unable. Angry.

             But he can’t have her violent ways. Especially not here, at a wrong place at the wrong time. And with the wrong people. That’s when suddenly a reminder crossed his thoughts...

 

* * *

 

 

             “Uhh why are we stopping, dad?” she asked.

             He undid their seat belts and walked along the sidewalk without an explanation. They halted as soon as a shop came to a view. It was a familiar one, they’ve come here before. Fink raised her head seeing the neon lights of the sign above the glass door still working fine with all the letters intact. It’s--

             “Ice cream!”

             An ice cream parlor. He giggled slightly. The sight of her in simple joy is a wonderful feeling for him. A father. He is her father, and he’s proud of that.

             “Hmm, wait. Does me getting a reward out of nothing mean that I have to do something later?” she asked, suspecting.

             “No, sweetie. I thought I’d treat you for today--err-night. I always haven’t got the time for you. I’m sorry about that.” he sincerely apologized. That’s right…This treat was supposed to be before school and work. But he overslept, and completely forgot.

             “Oh. That’s okay, wasn’t a big deal for me. But apology accepted anyway.” she smiled.

             That smile was too innocent that any stranger would suspect she’s a good little girl who hadn’t hurt a fly ever in her life. Which she is, although to correct: a good little girl with a darker shade.

             So they went in and had the night they both wanted it to be. A father-daughter moment.

 


	4. Tuesday: Always the Trio

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tuesday is going to be a one long day. Brace yourselves.

             A good arm and leg stretch and a long-held yawn released on her comfy bed of fluffy sheets and pillows was a one _good_ way to start a morning. And oh her room was ever so beautiful unlike any other day; lightened softly by the warm greeting rays of sunlight seeping through her turquoise curtains. Her wonderful room her dad provided and gave her permission to let her decorate. She smiled at that. But of course, nothing can par her beauty. No room, no person or sibling.

             She sat in front her vanity, brushing her short tangerine hair and admiring that astonishing beauty staring back at her in the mirror. That was her, of course. What a wonderful morning, so welcoming, lovely, delightful--

             Continuous rapid knocks batters down her door and broke her comb in halves.

             “WHAT?!”

             “Shannon! Shannon! Hurry, we’re going to be super late to school--!”

             Darrell. Of course, who else.

             “WE’RE ALWAYS LATE, DAR--”

             “--Dad’s gonna be super mad!”

             As soon as she heard that, she forgets the whole romanticized and desired morning and went straight for a quick shower. It was Tuesday.

 

 

 

             “ARGH! WHERE in THIS godforsaken world IS Shannon?!” Boxman frantically checks his watch every five seconds, tapping his foot. Nobody dared to calm him down, they can’t even get an inch near him.

             “Umm in our…house?” Darrell gave an unwanted answer. His siblings were shaking their heads and mouthing ‘no’ silently.

             “Darrell.” their father started with a light tone. “Oh god no.” Mikayla knew it was going to be a start of something terrible.

             “Darrell, Darrell, Darrell ohohoho...Are you giving me a smartass answer or simply--ANOTHER HEADACHE?!” If this get any worse--

             “U-uh uhm”, Darrell panicked.

             “Both.”, Raymond giggled silently.

             “SHH!” Ernesto hushed.

             “I HEARD THAT RAYMOND!”

             “What’s with all this commotion. Come on, people! We’re late!”, Shannon intervened. Ernesto, Darrell, Raymond, Teagan and Mikayla got in the van as soon as Shannon was seen. Mixed grumbles and frustrations were heard while getting in the van, along the lines of “Ugh finally”,”Says the late”,”What was taking her long?”

             Before they go in, she bid a quick sincere ‘sorry’, which her father ignored because dang he’s going to be late for work. Sara and Jethro waved their hands to them as the van moves fast to the horizon.

 

* * *

 

             It was P.E. day. Pretty unusual since it was Tuesday, but their P.E. teacher, Ms. Carol, had already gave an advanced notice that she would be out tomorrow up until next week for other urgent matters. And that a substitute teacher will be placed in her stead for nine days. She hadn’t said the name yet, but Raymond hopes they’re just as good as Ms. Carol. He doubts Ms. Carol would choose a low-quality, he just knows it.

             Right now, she is referee to a dodge ball match. He observed how his classmates be losers and get hit on their heads and stomachs. Hmph. Their very existence and apparent poor skills just proves his place as a champion, a sports star. He’s basically the talk of town, simple as that. Why wouldn’t he be? He’s got the looks, talents, charisma and radiance overall.

             Ms. Carol blew her whistle, ”GAME OVER! THE WINNER IS GROUP TWO!”. Both whines of frustration and victorious cheers followed after the announcement. As usual, his team won; they were composed of great players, after all. To name a few: Raymond, Meg FB, Judy, and Sparko. Group one is basically made up of a bunch of depressed and low-skilled losers, like Coleworth and Potato, the uninterested “Holo-”Jane (as she liked to be referred as)--or that muscle show-off Radicles.

             “Congratulations, Group two! Keep up the good work! And Group one, don’t sulk about the loss and start training for next time! You’ve done your greatest!”, Carol cheered both groups to assure that there would be no heavy hearts after. Sports can do that when you’re hard-headed. By the time everyone was leaving, Raymond eyes trailed after Rad.

             That guy is unlike the other losers. He is in Group one, but he got the remarkable trait of the second group: resilience. Usually when Rad loses, he shrugs it off with a ‘Better luck next time’, and it gets to his nerves. How dare that airhead not give in to his loss? It was annoying when Raymond sees him walk out a lost match fine and dandy without having a taste of pain first. Like he's doing right now.

             So he attempted some more--as he’s done for a few days now--instead of degrading and mocking him, he approached Rad with an intention hidden behind the goody-two-shoes façade.

             “Hey Radicles! Great job out there.” it sounded _almost_ sincere.

             Rad was flustered, his cheeks reddened. It was so out of character for him to compliment another player  _and_ a player from the opposing team. This wasn’t the first time he’s done this act, though. If he was complimented this many times, that must’ve mean…he really _did_ a great job.

             “W-wha--Me? Radicles? A great job?” he nearly laughed. No, it didn’t sound right. Put two and two, it doesn’t equal. But then, he realized his response was weak. _The_ school sports star, _Raymond Boxman,_ is talking to him. _He_  was the first to approach.

             He corrected, with pride this time, “I-I mean. Of course! I’m a pretty great jock, after all.” He’s got the muscles, the looks, and the humor. What person wouldn’t want to be with or to be him? Wait. He forgot a thing.

             “Wait. Didn’t my team lose?” It had to be a mock, it had to be. Why would he fall for stupid unusual good-guy mask? He’s just doing this so that he would receive a compliment back and feed his ego. But then again...Building it up for days?

             “Yes, but losing...doesn’t justify the fact that you didn’t show great effort and competency.” he hesitated. He wasn’t used to saying such positive things to other people. And certainly not to ones whom he considers an opponent. ”I saw the fire in those eyes and the potential every next move you make to my...loser of a team.” he hoped it wasn’t too exaggerated. But he did mean what he said about his teammates. Sometimes, they can be incompetent, weak. The two reasons his team was always winning is: one, Raymond was in their team; and two, group one members are low-skilled.

             Rad didn’t entirely buy this whole positive “compliment”. But if this whole thing was just Raymond trying to change his bad attitude, then he would test if it is genuine. How? There’s a good opportunity for this. Just maybe.

             “Uh cool, I guess. Thanks.” he’s very nervous about the next thing, “And uh, hey. There’s this event that I’m hosting. I was wondering if you could come?”

 

* * *

 

             During Raymond’s P.E., Darrell and Shannon was in Science class. It was both fortunate and unfortunate that they were in the same class most of the time. Fortunate that they can help each other in cheating (sometimes, when they’re not stabbing each others’ backs), but unfortunate for the teachers and many classmates. But it doesn’t mean that it doesn’t happen to be unfortunate for them too. More for Shannon, actually. For instance, 

             “Psst!” Darrell keeps on insisting for many failed attempts to get Shannon’s attention.

             “Pssst! Hey!”

             “Darrell, no!” Really getting on her nerves!

             “Pst! I swear this one’s funnier than the last one!”

              _'Why is he even next to my seat?!'_ Shannon grunted and took a deep breath. _‘Remember, Shannon! Ignore pests and go be merry with your life!’_ Those words kept chanting in her mind, over and over. She wasn’t even paying attention to the class anymore, with all those chants in her head. And it, unexpectedly, worked. Darrell was _actually_ quiet for once! Oh the birds were singing and the heaven had graced the Earth with its holy light. This is to be celebrated later.

             A soft thump on her head as the paper was thrown.

             Or maybe not.

             “GRR! What.Do.You.WANT?!”

             “Just pick it up!” she did pick it up, but only to throw it back--

             “--Was there something you needed to ask, Ms. Boxman?”

             Shannon froze at the sharp and stern voice of Professor Venomous echoing in the quiet classroom. Darrell affixed himself on the seat, like every student in the classroom. She didn’t dare to look him in the eyes as she knew they were going to pierce her with its cold pointy glare.

             She gulped, “No…Sir.”

             Professor Venomous deemed it a waste of time to get the thrown paper and scold them. So he just shrugged it off, half satisfied with the answer. He was about to continue on when--

             “But! Darrell here--my good brother-- has a few uhm-- _perplexing_ questions…” she thought good, ”About other theories you didn’t mention that he researched last night! He stayed up late for it, I thought it’d be such a shame if the word doesn’t get out.”

             She shot a smug look at Darrell, who was sweating and giving her a betrayed look.

             Payback.

 

* * *

  

             The bell rang, signalling the end of school hours. The Boxmore trio met up at the corridors. Shannon was fixing her stuff and locked her locker, ignoring Darrell’s blabbers about betrayal at Science class and Raymond laughing at the whole story.

             "Your drawing was dumb, and it almost cost me my reputation!”

             “Cost your--How?!”

             “Well, Professor would’ve pushed further and ask science-y questions I have zero ideas about and I wouldn’t have answered!” she gestured her hands dramatically.

             “Imagine, Dare!” she gripped her brother’s arms tightly, “The humiliation if you were in my place.”

             “Wha--If I were in YOUR place?!” he shook off her hands, “I was the one who stood up there in the class and asked a question about some made-up theory! I was the one humiliated!”

             “I only got lucky that the made-up name was close to another name of an actual theory. I’m getting back at you someday, you’ll see!”

             They both huffed and later cooled, Raymond then seized that opportunity to announce, “Hey guys, Rad invited to his “pre-prom” party earlier in P.E. And he said it was cool if I bring you guys with me.”

             Both his siblings light up to idea. “That’d be nice, we could use a little space to breathe.”

             “Yeah! Home’s not too great…or school.” Darrell agreed. “But wait ‘pre-prom?’” Shannon asked.

             “Don’t worry, he said it’s students only. Teachers don’t know about this.” Raymond assured.

             “Ooh! Like a secret private party I see in Shannon’s series thing.” Darrell, excited. “Ah! Are there gonna be alcohol or pills involved? Because I always see that in TV series, it doesn’t end well.”

             Shannon mentioned, “Ugh it’s called “Life is Peculiar” and “Riverside High” by the way. So cringy when you say it.”

             “Maybe alcohol, but complete drug-free Dare.” Raymond answered. Darrell was half relieved. “So when is this?” Shannon asked.

             “Friday, when classes are suspended.”

 

 


	5. Tuesday: To Be a Son of a Boss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ernesto is a ball of purple and anxiety, let’s love him <3

            Tuesday was like any other day in the Boxmore offices: busy. Businessmen making a racket and chasing after deadlines, the sound of papers shifting and turning pages, the loud clicks and typing noises from the keyboard and mouse, the ringing phone that rings minute by minute--thousand voices with emotions varying from one to another amalgamated and circulating within the room. The usual cacophony of Boxmore offices.

             It can be heard and seen when you’re in this building, this office: the emotion and feelings that is. Anger, fear, frustration, anxiety, stress; it’s so thick that it’s suffocating, like their necks were being strangled and their heads had weights. Those were the feelings that gravitates them, locking in place and boosts them to work. To function. Whether it was to function correctly or not, it did not matter. As long as the job is done right.

             Ernesto could see and feel all of these. He could see it in their worn eyes and hear through their exasperated sighs. Everyone was tired, but they never stopped. If they stopped now, what will be of their families’ future? And their future? There are not many jobs in a small town like Lakewood, and to waste the chance with a good pay from Boxmore is an idiot’s choice. What more, this was what they could do for the moment.

             Ernesto liked to be an observer to others. It had always been so interesting to him, to see how they manage and how they solve. He’s seen most times how people can be so different yet somewhat similar in a way. But that doesn’t mean he watches them 24/7, or that he’s got nothing too interesting to do in his life. Besides, he had his job to worry about; it is priority first.

             Despite his job being boring, he enjoyed it. No, he loved it. He loved it too much he’s willing to work overtime or run a dozen of errands and tasks. The fruit of this hard work and dedication was his promotion to Executive Manager of the Boxmore Industry. Though, some of his co-workers thought that he was promoted just because he is the boss’ son. But that wasn’t true. In the subject of work, Boxman plays it fair and so does his children.

             His job is his interest, his passion, hell maybe consider it a hobby. Sometimes, Boxman would worry about his health and sleep, and how he is almost never with his siblings like before. He would wake up early to be punctual, a coffee and sandwich would be his lunch and sometimes dinner too; and then he would go home late when the whole Lakewood town is at sleep. All his efforts born a fruit of reports of excellent performances, but it costs his health and personal time. And he can’t see that.

 

* * *

 

 

             It was night, and his out was early according to schedule. Before he goes home, he paid visit to his father’s main office. He cleared his throat, re-aligned his tie and then knocked. He entered by his father’s word, and saw him over phone but quickly hung up when Ernesto was in. The person over the phone sounded so mad he heard them from a distance. But that wasn’t his business to interfere with.

             “Father, I’m checking out early. What time will you come home?” Ernesto asked.

             “I’m not so sure yet, but go on without me. You can use the van.” Boxman fished the car key in his pocket and threw it toward Ernesto.

             “There’s no need. A co-worker already offered a ride since he’s nearby our neighborhood.” he returned it back.

             Boxman raised a brow, “Oh? And who might this be? Is it someone I know? Someone I trust?”

             “It’s Neil... You know, Belle’s good friend.”

             Boxman thought for a minute, trying to remember the names. There were so many workers, he doesn’t remember a notable feature in each of them.

             “They all look alike to me, but,” a sigh and a long pause, “Fine. I’ll allow you. Just as long as he doesn’t do anything suspicious, you hear me? ANYTHING at all.”

             “I’ll be fine, I swear.” his eldest son swore.

             “If he tries to pull something funny, you know what to do.” Still, his father insisted.

             “He wouldn’t dare. Trust me, he’s not the type to hurt a fly.”

             “You know what goes on this wretched building. Everyone’s got a watching eye on you—“

             “I know,” Ernesto placed his hands on his father’s tensing shoulders, “Calm down. You need rest,” His shoulders eased a bit when he exhaled, “Please come home as soon as possible.”

             That was last he said before leaving the main office. Boxman sat down at his office chair, once more alone, and calmed himself with wine he hid in a drawer.

 

 

 

             The ride home was quiet and awkward for Ernesto. Neil didn’t pay attention to it though. They passed by brick buildings and leafy green maple trees and more: the typical things you’d find in a small town. It wasn’t much of a view since it was already dark; the only thing he could see was silhouettes, and the night lights trying to define its shape against the dark. They were near Lakewood Estate when Neil opened up a topic.

             “Ernesto, was it? You don’t seem like the type to talk, unlike at work.” he noted.

             Ernesto’s heart raced at the voice. He wasn’t used to conversations with strangers. Well, he wasn’t a complete stranger, but still, they never talk to each other in the office and let alone outside of it. _‘Okay, you’ll do fine Ernesto. It’s just a casual conversation, act casual.’_

             “I never liked talking to people. Outside of work.” he replied.

             “Huh. I thought you were chatty for sure…”

             After that came no response. The awkward air settled once again, and there was nothing Ernesto could do about it. What else is he going to say? Is Neil expecting a reaction? Should he say something? Anything? The longer they were in silence, the more uneasy Ernesto became with this and the thoughts sitting in his mind. Lucky for him, Neil broke it.

             “But anyway, there’s been something that’s bothering me in this town. I lived here for years but there was nothing like that in here.” he spoke. His eyes shift around nervously, as if he is looking for eavesdroppers. Which looks ridiculous considering they’re in a moving car, but also somewhat chilling. When coast is clear, he asked,

             “Have you heard of the Shadow Snakes? It’s a new gossip in town.”

_'Shadow Snakes...? ’_

             “No, I haven’t,” a short answer was all he gave, but he added quickly, “What’s that?”

             They arrived to an intersection: turning left, right, two lefts and straight and they’re home. The stoplight halted them, counting down thirty-eight seconds. “Well, I’m kind of surprised,” he looked at him, as if he was missing out on something big. “’Heard it’s some gang roaming and making trades at nights. Apparently illegal traders and vandalism artists but so far no one’s harmed.” he informed. Then his brows furrowed, and he looked down. Gulping, as if there was a bother in his mind.

             Twenty-six seconds.

             “Why, there has never been a gang in Lakewood. There are many in Neo Riot, but never here.” _‘Maybe they were from Neo Riot but moved here.’_

             “There never is, Ernest. They said they were from outside of town. And there’s this one member who is scouting around,” he paused, the tension building itself up. “Some citizens see him at night, in the alleys or corners of their eyes. They see his figure, but not his appearance,” Like a passing shadow, like unknown phantoms in a mind.

             “I know that because I saw him too.” Neil grew more and more nervous as he spoke. His hands tightened the grip on the wheel.

             Ernesto’s heartbeats grew quicker. He gulped, “Who?”

             “ _Shadowy Figure_.”

 

* * *

 

             Ernesto thanked him for the ride. Neil returned a _‘no probs, man’_ , and went on his way home. Huh. Neil wasn’t so bad after all. Still he wondered about the little gossip they had earlier. _‘Shadowy Figure, Shadow Snakes? Was that supposed to be a warning?’_ he wondered. The cool night breeze was beginning to seep through his work suit, so he wasted no more time getting inside the house.

             When Ernesto was on the porch, there was a sound of a shattering plate and clattering silverwares accompanied by a child’s shriek coming from the kitchen. It alerted him.

_‘Teagan, Jethro!’_

             With all his speed and adrenaline coursing through, he gripped his suitcase, slammed the door open and dashed as fast as he could to the kitchen—

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> watch out, the sneks r in town


	6. Tuesday: To Be an Older Sister

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I named the dog Sheila, since she doesn’t have a name yet. I tried interpreting CAS from all the videos and articles I’ve read, I hope it isn’t to inaccurate ahaaaaaaaa

             The moment the van disappeared to the horizon, Sara held Jethro’s hand and went inside. Jethro ran towards the living room as soon as he was in. He knew that his tutor would come over, so he gathered all the most frequently used items: his written notebooks, papers, pencils and reading books his tutor left him.

             While he gathered those, Sara started listing a few household chores before the tutor comes. First, she swept the floor until there was no speck of dust left. Then she removed the unnecessary items resting on the couch and table like discarded shirts, worn socks, empty drinking glasses and small candy covers; putting them in the laundry, the sink and trash respectively. The house was always this messy almost every day. After, she fluffed the sofa cushions, picked up the crumpled papers Jethro made, boiled some water for tea she would prepare, and went upstairs with the objective of cleaning her siblings’ rooms only to step on something squishy…

 

             “SHEILAAA!!”

 

             Jethro stopped his random doodling and followed Sara upstairs, but was stopped by her midway. “No no no no Jethro don’t come here!” With that, she ran to the bathroom upstairs in a rather odd footing. He lifted his head to see, and saw something brown.

 

 

             Their door bell rang. Sara panicked; she hasn’t made the tea yet. The water she boiled earlier was probably cold by now. She completely forgot! Sheila, their dog, was already barking at the door, trying to keep the stranger at bay though no effect was done. Jethro rearranged his stuff again before opening the door, all while Sara rushed in the kitchen.

             “Oh! Jethro! It’s nice to see you again.” Pavel greeted with a warm smile. From the kitchen, Sara invited him in, “Oh sir Pavel! Come in!” Sheila’s barking stopped and her tail started wagging as soon as she recognized him. She twirled around and smelled his feet excitedly as he entered humbly.

             He sat down on the couch, petting the dog’s head. “I see she’s healthy as ever.”

             Sara came in the living room holding a tray of mildly warm tea and two iced chocolate drink. She settled it down on the coffee table and gave to each person their favored drink. “Sheila? She is getting chubby and we love it!” As she said it, she hugged her. “But she was very naughty earlier.” she noted at the little _event_ earlier. She grimaced a bit at the memory.

             Sheila. She remembered when they first found her at the markets. She was with Ernesto at that time, supposedly to buy all that their father had listed on a paper when they had crossed upon this small pup: shivering, thin, weak and scarred. The poor creature wasn’t in under any care, as they saw how she ate whatever leftovers were scattered about on the dirty damp market floors. Both pitied her, but the other didn’t want to take it with them while the other wanted to. Ernesto reasoned that their family was already hard to feed and manage, and what more if they added a new member, even if the dog was small. Sara turned out to be the victor though because she kept on insisting and pestering him that eventually he gave up. The family had several reactions, but they all loved her in the end.

             “Thank you for the tea, Sara.” he bowed his head lightly, “Now, shall we begin our two-man class?”

             Pavel reached for a reading book on the coffee table Jethro had placed earlier. Sara sat at a cushioned arm chair, observing how he teaches Jethro. As she always does. She wanted to, because she wanted to see how Jethro improves. She wants to be there, in a part of his life where he was improving.

             “Can you read this word?” he pointed some word on the book.

             “Ish- la,” Jethro tried again, “Ihh laa”

             “Go on, I know you can do it.”

             “Ei naan.” No matter how hard he tries, it wouldn’t come out clear. But Jethro had been through this many times. He’s actually doing better than his previous classes, you would know if you were with him from the start.

             “Could you repeat after me? Say ‘Eye’,” he let him follow.

             “Eye.” it was clear.

             “Good, now say ‘Land’.” he emphasized the letter D.

             “La-lan,” his voice so meek, “Llan. Nand.”

             “Land.” Mr. Pavel repeated.

             Jethro took a small intake of breath, “Lan. Land. Land.”

             “Very good! Now say it like it is one word. Eye-Land (Island).”

             “Eye--eyee lan. Island.”

             “Now repeat after me,’I will fight.’”

             “I wih fight.”

             “I can write and draw.” Mr. Pavel made sure to put emphasis in each word.

             “I can write an dro.”

 

* * *

 

             “Thanks again, sir Pavel. Because of you, Jethro’s been improving on his speech, and learning a lot.” Sara thanked him for a job well-done. There was no teacher alike him in this town. And actually, he wasn’t from Lakewood, but they did move here for their daughter’s-- Dendy, was it?--education, as Lakewood schools was known to be great and educative.

             “Oh that’s no problem really. And I trust you in teaching him home too, even without me.”

             “Yes, sir I always do.” They shake hands and gave nods of approval before he went on his way. Jethro waved at him behind Sara, and she patted his head. She glanced at her watch, _‘It’s almost time to pick up Mikayla and Teagan.’_

             “Hey, lil’ guy, how about we go get Mikayla and Teagan from school? We’ll go for a quick shop too.” she suggested. They were running out of food supplies rather fast as of late. She should start listing now.

             When Jethro nodded, Sara said, “Go get your coat, it will be cold there.” and he went up to his room. Sara borrowed a coat from the coat rack, and went to the kitchen to inspect the needed items. She opened the cabinets and the fridge, and listed the depleted supplies. By the time she finished the list, Jethro was behind her and had his blue jacket on. She shoved the small paper in her pocket,

             “Let’s go.”


	7. Tuesday: In Daydreams

             The sky was clear and blue outside; the air fresh, brushing the stray strands of her lime yellow hair. Her palm on chin, inside looking out, and ears that deafen itself for this relaxing moment. The scene, to visualize, was a girl next a window--mind elsewhere-in a wreckage of a class. Metaphorically, she’s a yellow poppy midst a war. Without a care in the world, she closed her eyes and daydreamed.

 

             Of, hmm, a girl. That girl was walking casually on the school grounds; reading her favorite novel book and earphones plugged on her ears, separating her from the world and welcoming her to a fantasia. Lost in her world until--!

             A man in black, dark as night, draped in a cape and dark aura, has appeared before her!

             She dropped her book, the music she was listening to lost its trance. Reality was seeping back in, her reverie gradually faded. She stood frozen on her place, but something bold snapped in her. And it gave her the adrenaline to turn back and run but--

             The doors closed.

             Wait a second. Doors? She was in the school, how did she transport to a--she twisted, looked up and left-- a mansion?!

             The man approaches closer, ever tall and mysterious. His eyes red and those belonged of a delinquent. He sang a rather catchy song, fitting for a man who wore a cape, top hat and a cane. Something wrapped around her waist and wrists and ankles and then--a rip! She was in new clothes. 

 

             “So here are the characteristics of Romantic art,” her classmate Rex said with an uninterested voice. “What are the characteristics of Romantic. Arts.” he read, “Romantic Art focused on emotions, feelings. And uh moods.” Rex, also known as Bunny, was a reporter for the day, as he was assigned. She didn’t listen further, and she was sure that her classmates aren’t listening too. Her noisy classroom full of fourteen year old brats throwing crumpled papers around and letting their mouths be as loud as microphones when talking to their classmates.

             Their teacher didn’t pay any attention to any of this noise or to the reporter at all. She herself was doing something on her own. She’s the type of teacher who would give grades according to how much she remembers your name. It sucks. She turned to the window and closed her eyes once more.

 

             The girl found herself in a black dress: fishnet covering the whole neck and shoulders area up to her hands, but it was finger-less. Her white t-shirt now turned into a black bustier, and her jeans into a simple black skirt with a bustle underneath; her purple sneakers became a high-heel black boots.  She was in all black and adorned with spiky bracelets and accessories. What is going on--? The thing that wrapped around her earlier came wrapping itself back again around her waist. It was the man’s cane shape-shifted, she saw as the man pulled her closer, and closer, closer--

 

             “Uhh hey Boxcat, I called you. Are you deaf?”

             That called her back to reality. She was startled, but she didn’t let it be obvious. Her classmates snickered as she stood up reluctantly making the action a bit awkward. She saw it, she saw them. She knows that they know how she wasn’t listening earlier. They scoffed at her with smirks, and had those eyes awaiting for a failure: waiting to witness an embarrassing moment, and to use that against her later. She could feel it, she could feel it, their eyes--more than forty yet it felt like a thousand--burning and engraving on her skin. On her skin, it burns.

_‘Come one Mikayla! Don’t think about it just yet!’_

             “Uh-hm...uhm. The q-question. Mikayla did not,” eyes were still on her, ”Did not hear.”

             The whole classroom snickered, not a single louder than the last one. Rex, the reporter, rolled his eyes, but he repeated, “Who painted the famous painting _‘Liberty Leading the People’?”_

             Liberty Leading the People? Now where had she--Oh! “Eugene Delacroix.” She remembered reading it somewhere in their Music and Arts book. She’s glad she remembered it. Rex nodded and continued his report. Mikayla sat down and released the heaviness and tenseness in her in a long sigh.

             That’s what she gets for not separating personal time for social time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plus three for those who knows what Mikayla daydreamed about. Hint: Aurelio Voltaire ;^)


	8. Tuesday: The Lone Wolf

             The second the bell rang, the corridors were crowded with young eager students. It was recess time. After hours of study, the students’ energies were bound to drain at some point. Soon, the crowd moved to fill the canteen.

             In the canteen, KO lined up on the waiting line with his tray ready. In his mind, you’ll see a list of simple things the kid wants to be done.

  1. _Line up and get your food._



             The cafeteria lady served his tray with some veggies and other lunches appropriate for children, while he reached for a milk carton. So that counts one check.

  1. _Find your seat._



             That would be obvious that KO would sit with his best friends, or rather, best friend. He narrowed his eyes, searching, and scouted around for two things: an open seat and his friend Dendy. They got separated in the corridor earlier somehow. In midst of this search, he saw instead--

_'A lonely boy in the corner?!’_ he gasped. The boy was sitting alone, the seats beside him vacant. And dusty. In the dark corner. Without any light or person present. _‘M-Maybe he’s waiting for a friend, and leaves the seat open for them.’_ he assumed. So he waited…

             But still there was nothing. No one came, save for the flies that come and go on his area.

_‘No! This is not acceptable. No one should be lonely or sad.’_ he said in his mind full of determination, __‘_ I have to be there. I’m sorry Dendy, but it looks like I’ll have to find you--’ _

             “Found you KO!” She popped up at his face. “Dendy!” Oh. It looks like he doesn’t have to look for her anymore. “Quite the crowd today, isn’t it? Shall we search for seats?”

             “There is no need, Dendy. I already found one over there.” KO pointed toward the corner where the lonely boy was having his lunch. In the dark. Covered in dust. Dendy slightly adjusted her glasses and observed the boy, and where he situated. She inquired, “The seat is preoccupied by a stranger we seem to have never met. Are you sure you want to sit over there? What if he likes his own space? What if you get rejected despite your intention to help?”  

              KO laughed lightly, “Oh Dendy! We’ll never know if we don’t at least try. Don’t worry, I got this. Also, helping that boy gives me exp points.” Dendy agreed, ignoring the last sentence. KO had the tendency to do that, as he once said, so that he would have a source of motivation. Sometimes, Dendy likes to play along.

            _‘Number two, check. Now, time to insert a special task! And with this special task, I will gain plenty of experience and friendship points that will help me on my journey to the righteous path of becoming a hero!’_

_Special Task. Make friends with the lonely boy._

             As they approach closer, the darkness of the corner gradually fades and the boy’s looks become clearer. The most notable and the first noticed feature of him was a blue cone hat with thick purple stripes and a round fuzz covering the pointed edge. KO waved his hand in front of him, and said, “Hey there! Do you mind if we sit with you?” The boy lifted his head briefly to see who it was, then nodded hesitantly.

             KO and Dendy took seat opposite to the boy and laid their trays on the table. They quietly ate together, neither of the three really had anything to talk about. Then some time, Dendy noticed that the boy wasn’t eating anymore, and that he had his head down. So she whispered to her friend, “KO, you have to talk to him. He’s not eating.” Only then did KO notice that when his friend told him.

             He said, “Um…Oh! I completely forgot to introduce myself earlier heh. How silly of me,” He rubbed the back of his head. “I’m KO, and this is my best friend, Dendy.” She waved and greeted a ‘Hello’ at the mention of her name. The boy simply stared at them, but not in the eyes. _‘Okay not talkative, it looks like I have to make the first moves.’_

             “So what’s your name?” he asked. They waited for a response, but none came. The boy looked down to the ground again, as if he was having a staring contest with it. “Um, hello? Can you...talk?” KO waved his hand once more. The boy simply... doesn’t reply. KO, being persistent, kept on talking and asking questions like: “Did you make your lunch on your own?”, “What section are you?” or “Where did you get your hat?”.

             Dendy noticed more small details of him; like how his eyes shift nervously, his shoulders a bit stiff, his gaze always downward, and how he seem to be holding his breath. All these grow more and more visible the further KO asked questions. She nudged and whispered to her friend, “KO, slow down. He seems to be an anxious type, let’s not push him before he breaks down.”

             KO didn’t really get why some people are like that. Why would they be afraid to talk to other people? That’s how you make friends, and what is the world without friendship? But he’s more than willing to learn about them, and of different types of people, rather than pushing them away. So he gave space and respected that by silencing himself.

             The silence that took over was awkward: it was since KO’s talking abruptly stopped for reasons the boy didn’t know, and now nobody’s saying anything. But at least the boy’s tenseness had ceased, although not completely. Something was still going on in his mind. When they had finished their lunches, KO couldn’t take it and apologized, “Hey, I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable,”

             Dendy smiled. She loved KO’s compassion and care for others, even to strangers. That was the reason they became solid friends too.

             Before they go, KO said, “I hope I get to know you more next time. Bye!” And they waved their hands to him. In KO’s mind, _‘Okay, special task still in progress, but I’ll keep it in mind.’_

             They went separate ways in the corridors. It gave the silent boy, Teagan, a space for a thought: __‘_...next time..?’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> KO is a precious boi, can we all agree?


	9. Tuesday: An Eventful Evening

             “Teagan!” Mikayla called and ran to him. School was over and the two siblings met up at their usual rendezvous point. They had to have a meeting place after school because Teagan’s class ends earlier than Mikayla, a freshman whose class ends almost an hour later than a third grader. “Mikayla remembers that Sara would come and pick them up.” Oh that’s right. Their older sister said earlier that morning that she would pick them up and that they would go for a quick shopping. They waited for her for a while.

             Minutes passed, Sara came holding Jethro’s hand. And as promised, they walked together to the grocery store nearby the school. As they entered, Mikayla held Teagan’s hand--like Sara to Jethro--to make sure he wouldn’t get lost. The store was fairly small and Teagan doesn’t like being apart his family, but who says that there is no possible dangers that might happen?

             Sara got a basket, and Mikayla handed over hers and Teagan’s bags to the bagger’s counter and claimed their number. They stuck together in the store, sometimes Mikayla would be sent to the other aisle to get this item and that. It was a faster way.

             “Okay, Mikayla, I’m going to have you to do something for me.” Sara said. She tore the shopping list in half and handed the other half to Mikayla. “Get these things, you can leave Teagan to me. Find me near the counters when you’re done, I’ll do the same if I’m late.” Mikayla looked at the list, and saw that some of the items are already crossed out. She nodded, _‘Alone time. Yuus.’_

             She was heading to the canned food section when Sara said, “I think Jethro wants to come along with you.” Jethro was already holding her hand before she could even turn. Sigh. “Guess she has to look after you.” Mikayla put on her earphones, played her favorite song playlist on her phone before they continued on to the canned food section.

_1, 2, 3, 4!_

             She picked out several cans, checking its brand and price before deciding to keep ahold of it: she didn’t grab a basket. Jethro remained by her side, checking out a few and reading the labels because he had nothing to do.

_Kangae sugi no messeeji_

_Dare ni todoku kamo shirenai de_

             She held Jethro’s hand only to make sure he was there. Then she proceeded with the list. Jethro decided to help MIkayla hold the cans, and she let him. They proceeded to go wheat products aisle. Jethro couldn’t help but feel like someone was behind them.

_Kitto watashi wa itsu demo sou_

             He turned around, but nothing was there. He’s a child, yet he can feel when something was wrong. She picked according to the paper she had. She would shoot sideway glances at Jethro. He’s at a fair distance, but she can run to him quickly when needed. He’s there.

_Tsugihagi kurutta matoryoshika_

             He’s there, Mikayla assured. Jethro paced around. As child, he wasn’t content staying on the same place for an amount of time. So he waited for his sister’s side glances to stop.

             And that’s when he took the chance to tiptoe to the aisle on the right.

_Zutsuu ga utau paakeeji_

_Itsu made tatte mo hari wa yoji_

             He doesn’t know what he’ll do there, but going someplace elsewhere was better than staying there doing nothing. He remembered some of the things on the list and decided to focus on that.

_Dare mo oshiete kurenai de_

             On his way, he bumped onto a person.

_Sekai wa sakasa ni mawaridasu_

             He’s gone. Where is he? Jethro. Jethro _ _\--_ no don’t panic Mikayla, it’s a small store._ She set out to look for him to the left aisle. 

_Aa, waresou da_

             The cans lay scattered and forgotten. Jethro recognized this person. His warm pale grey hair with a widow’s peak, the stitched-up old scar on his jaw to cheek, his necklace with a simple lime green pendant encased in silver outline, and the most memorable of all: his green jacket with pointed shoulders.

_Kioku mo zenbu nagedashite_

             Mikayla heard the clank of cans by her right. The person picked up the cans that Jethro had dropped and gave it to him. “Hello Jethro,” he greeted, and then noticed the boy was all by himself. “Why are you alone here?”

_Aa, shiritai na_

              “My sis-her shees they on the owwer eye (My sister, she’s there on the other aisle)” he replied. ‘He must be talking about Shannon,’ he thought. He was about say something when--

 

_Fukaku made._

__

             “Jethro!”

 

             Mikayla’s first instinct was to hold him, and was relieved when she did. The man simply walked away once seeing her. “Jethro you could’ve told her if you were going somewhere. Now, come on.” Jethro looked back and smiled at the man before they started walking away.

 

* * *

 

            On their way back home, Jethro still couldn’t help but feel like those eyes were following them. Those unnerving, unknown eyes from somewhere that he’s not sure if it existed. Although he shrugged it off the second time he turned around and see nothing.

            When they got home, the first thing Mikayla did was to lock herself in her room. The most likely thing she would do is indulging in her phone: talking to her friends or continuing watching her anime. Jethro and Teagan helped around the kitchen, they were good boys. Sara let them arrange the groceries, while she prepared for dinner.

             Well, she could prepare but the kitchen sink was full of dirty plates. She forgot to do the half of it because she was watching over Jethro that afternoon. Ugh. She hated washing dishes.

             “Mikayla!” She called. Upon getting no response, she expressed an annoyed grunt and goes upstairs to her room. Teagan got the message that Sara wanted the dishes to be washed, so he took it upon himself to do it.

             Sara turned the knob, only to find out that she locked it. She knocked instead, “Mikayla, I called you. Please wash the dishes? I did the half.” She heard two feet scrambling from the inside. Good. Sara was heading towards the stairs--confident that Mikayla would do as she was told--but then she heard the sound of a shattering plate and clattering silverwares, and a child’s shriek.

             She ran down the stairs to the kitchen as soon as she heard, the door was slammed open and Ernesto ran in too.

             The scene was as Sara expected. Teagan was on a small stool, shaking, Jethro stood beside him; a dozen of spoons and forks lay scattered on the ground and a shattered plate was on the ground. Ernesto relieved his worry, _‘It was just an accident. No--no one is here.’_ Sara said nothing, instead she grabbed a broom and a dust pan and started sweeping the shards before anyone steps on it.

             Ernesto asked, “What happened? Teagan a-are you okay?” He checked Teagan’s hands and saw a long but shallow cut. It was bleeding fast. Mikayla came in the scene late, and she already was given an order to get their first aid kit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s mystery two, haha. Another plus three if you guessed the song. And also, the song is totally not related to a character at all hahah ha ha ( - w -


	10. Wednesday: Some Funny Business

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried fixing the chat format for mobile size, but all I can do XD

****\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------** **

**** <\---****                 +**Boxmore Fam**+                                                                                      

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

     lemonBomb: dont worry dad, they got to school. I made sure of it

                                                                                                                                             ok thats nice to know

                                                                                                                    how about their lunches?? and money?

     glassbrain: we got it dad :D

                                                                                                               hows Teagan? did u change the bandage?

     lemonBomb: yepshies. Cleaned it bfr changing

     shoujoneko: he was bleeding all over ; ~ ;

 

 

 

             “Boxman!” a stern and irritated voice echoed in the room. “Pay. Attention. I’m not going to repeat myself.”

             And possibly the hallways too, because this is Cosma we’re talking about here. Boxman gulped and immediately hid his phone in his pocket, “I’m-I’m listening! I’m listening! A-hah-haha.” He laughed nervously. They--his investors--looked at him, knowing that he truly wasn’t listening.

             Cosma then continued, “So as I was saying. The current whereabouts of our business is...”

 

 

 

                                                                                                                                                 is he still bleeding??

     lemonBomb: no but it bleeds when he moves it around

     lemonBomb: im making sure he’s not going to use

                         his right hand too much

                                                                                                                                  tnx sara take care of him well

     lemonBomb: on it boss >:3

     purpbear: good luck on your meeting dad!

     ray: oh!

     ray: best luck coachdad! <3 <3

     mushroomhead: gud luck xoxo

     jay: <3 <3 :)

 

 

 

             “BOXMAN!”

 

             Oh nuts.

             “For the last time--!” she growled in anger, like to a dragon. “You see! This is why your company is failing full time!” Boxman was fixed on his seat, sweating and gulping. Because oh man you don’t want to see her spit fire. Literally.

             “You have been distracted and becoming slow-paced in the business. How are you going to expect to keep getting funds from us if you present us this--” she slammed her palm on the posted chart, “--These poor inexcusable sales!” The chart showed the gist of what Boxman called his hard work: a point from the north going all the way down south. Was that really how it looked like?

             “And not only that! I’ve read some reports and complaints. The customers are not satisfied, Boxman. Your products are becoming inefficient and low graded, just like you and your miserable workers here!” But he worked hard, did he not? He slept late and woke early, he put strict rules in his company, he made sure every single one played their role. He sacrificed his time for his family for this bull!

             Cosma released her anger through a sigh, and spoke more toned down than the last, “Our production schedule is completely below quota. What have you been doing? Wasting your time and hours for what? Daydreaming?!”

             He couldn’t speak. Under the scrutiny of his investors, and to Cosma, he felt powerless to speak. It was like his voice was taken away from him, but he still have words unspoken. The courage he mustered up before the meeting defrosted back into a puddle. But then, his children...

             “A-ah,” he cleared his throat, “I’ve-I’ve been busy with m-my children, too, you know. A father of eight, it’s very exhausting, it’s hard to--I have lots on my plate--it’s--” he trailed off. He knows that is no excuse, and he hated using them for excuses.

             Cosma knew that he had ran out of reasons by the way he spoke. So one final time, she said, “Okay. Boxman. I am going to give you _another_ chance--a wager, more of. By Thursday, a full twenty-four hours, you are going to make up for this poor production and performances. I don’t care on how you do it, but I must have a good report by early Friday.”

             No. No way. A chance! Cosma is giving him chance? It didn’t sound right, but it’s what he needs now. A slim chance, but he’s--he’s not going to pass this up. But she said a wager, what is the cost if he didn’t..?

             “...Or..?” he asked, almost unwilling.

             “OR YOU’RE FIRED!” she slammed a fist on the conference table. He shrank when her fist landed. Wha--but that can’t be! They’re just--

             “B-but you’re just my board of investors. You can’t--you can’t fire me, per se.” Cosma sat down and tried to cool her head once more. This guy really gets on her nerves--for years he has. She continued, “But we can certainly stop funding your business.”

             That made him go cold.

             “No more money means no more Boxmore.” He broke in cold sweat as he thought of it happening. She saw Boxman’s reaction and simply smirked, “I’ll be checking in by Friday.”

             The board prepared themselves to leave, getting their coats and suitcases. But before they leave, Cosma bid,

             “Good luck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there’s Cosma! The Boxmore Industry is in danger. I’m going to refer Boxman’s investors as “The Board”, by the by :^)  
> fyi I spent a lot of time thinking about their nicknames in the fam group chat haha. Shannon & Darrell nicknamed each other, they wouldn't name themselves that. Then there's Ray and Jay, maybe someday we'll know why ;^)


	11. Wednesday: Acquainted in the Future

             Venomous settled his coffee on his table and sat. He scanned through the quizzes of the students, slightly disappointed of the low scores. Well, science IS hard to grasp for those unwilling learners and an average guy. He sorted them by section and decided he’d record them later.

             For now, he sipped on his coffee, relaxed on his seat while listening to the soft kisses of the drizzle to ground. He was currently alone in the faculty, save for some teachers who come in to get something and leave. Soon, he won’t be alone, and this chilly dimly-lit room will become the opposite of what it is.

             The burst opening of the door caught him startled, almost dropping his coffee. He tilted his head to get a better view of the person, and saw the new teacher. Gladys was her name, she was supposed to substitute for Carol today ‘til next week. She was humming a song, confident that no one was in the faculty with her. When she got to Carol’s desk, she jumped at the sight of Venomous, who was slightly amused by the reaction.

             “O-oh! Forgive me, I thought there was no one else here.” she apologized sheepishly. “Well, I have been alone here for quite some time. And you must be Carol’s substitute. How are the students?” his voice lacked emotion, which she found a little odd.

             “Indeed I am. Gladys by the way.” she offered her hand for a shake, and when he accepted, he seemed a bit awkward on the hand contact. “Her students are great! Always participating, and reactive; she shaped them up well.”

             “She is great in performance, I do not doubt her students are as well.” he commented. Carol was one of the best teachers there in Lakewood Senior High, both students and teachers thought so.

             “Indeed! From what I’ve seen so far, I’d say Enid and Raymond are great.” she said while she sat down and cleared the desk. “Intelligent little teens and what Carol had said, very sporty. I can already feel their potential.” __‘_ A Boxman kid again, huh? Those Boxmans are always a talk.’_

             “What was your name again? I believe I haven’t got it.” she asked. “Venomous.” Her face expressed a quite indescribable expression.

             “Oh so you’re _the_  professor? I was warned about you, but I don’t get what it’s supposed to mean,” __‘_ They’re as careful as that huh?’ _“But, Venomous? As in venom? Sounds dangerous.” she said, putting on her spooked out voice. There was no ill-will, no mock or intentions to. At least not yet. Maybe.

             The faint smile he gave ended their little conversation. There was peace, silence, the drizzle, a coffee, and a company who did not care for his reputation.

 

* * *

 

             Venomous checked out of school and fished for his car keys. Today was no different: same old, same old. He taught the lessons: some students listened, few understood and half forgot by the end of his class. He sighed. He’s never going to get those lessons through them.

             But eh, why does he care now? He’s tired, beat. Maybe mentally going crazy. He kept thinking of everything: how he is stuck--possibly until retirement--with this low-salary job, how he and Fink lived their lives now, how the other people perceive them as, how they stay low, how cowardly--how, how...

             Such a coward.

             He ignited the car with a turn of the key. He was about to step on the gas, but a woman called out, “Venomous! Professor, wait!” Oh. He knows who that is. He put the window down so she could speak to him properly.

             “I’m so sorry for this Professor, but would it be alright if,” Gladys hesitated for a moment, but Venomous gave her a look that says ‘go on’. “If maybe you could give me a ride home? Sorry, it’s just... my husband probably forgot that he had to pick me up.” she was rather melancholic at the mention of her husband.

             She continued, “We agreed on that in the morning...But now, I just saw where he happens to be.” She said the last sentence with rancor, spat it out like it was just some spit. Venomous wasn’t entirely comfortable with a stranger in his car, or let alone in contact with him. Back then when he met people, it was only one time off. Then they’d disappear from his sight forever. No attachments, no nothing.

             He supposed this’ll be just one time. He doesn’t have to keep her in--stop. Stop. He shook his head off, hoping it would be off his mind too. “Get in.” he said, unintentionally a bit heated. Gladys heard it and got a bit worried, “I...can seat in the back,”

             “And uh...Thank you..Very much.”

 

 

 

 

             They picked up Fink from school. At first, she was alarmed at seeing Gladys. Fink, like her father, doesn’t trust people too sudden and too much. The whole time, the daughter was eyeing her carefully, as if she’d do a crime. Gladys did try to warm up to her, trying to get her in a small adult-child talk about school or something. Fink didn’t fall for any of that, and outright rejected her every time she attempted. But Gladys didn’t hold anything against her for that.

             Fink got very sleepy in the car. She didn’t last for five minutes, and fell into deep sleep quick. She must’ve been real tired too. Without her usual talking to fill in the car’s atmosphere, it was quiet. Too quiet. He wasn’t used to such, not this type of silence. The one that makes him feel all alone.

             “You have a nice daughter.” Gladys said. “She outright said that she does not want to talk to you.” Wouldn’t anybody say that’s a bit rude?

             “I think that’s nice. Honest and smart. That way, she can avoid shady strangers.” she said, happy tone gradually turning to a gloomy one. Why is that? Silence befell for a moment, she in deep thought, and he in deep fatigue. She whispered, almost like a passing breath, with raspy tired voice,

             “I’ve always wanted a daughter.”

             And that alone implied a thousand meanings. Meanings he doesn’t know how to care for at this moment. What was he supposed to do? They’re both strangers. And he never cared for strangers.

             The emptiness of air seemed to echo back to Gladys’ ear what she had just said. She got embarrassed quick, but she didn’t know how to take her words back and make it unheard. If only she could, but she can never. “So where do I turn?” Venomous asked. She collected herself back together, “Oh uhm left. But I can walk from here, it’s really narrow there.”

             “Are you sure?” he asked for the sake of being polite. “Yes, really. There are some thugs and awaiting criminals--” she cut off herself. She seemed to be looking out the car window intensely, then shouted, “HEY!”. She ran out of the car. He followed after her, curious, and made sure to lock the car because Fink was still in there.

             “HEY YOU THERE! GET AWAY!”

             There were two men. 

             “Oh crap, it’s Co-bruh’s chick!” one said. “Let’s bail bro!”

             And two beaten bodies.

             “Crap!” the other cursed.

             “YEAH THAT’S RIGHT GO RUN!”

             And a brave woman.

             The two anonymous men ran, disappearing off to the dark narrow alley. The two beaten boys moaned in pain, struggling to get up. Gladys and Venomous’ attention turned to those two. One of the boys had a worn all-blue sweater, a dark teal hair and a slender frame; while the other had ginger hair, a red shirt and a round frame, contrasting the other. They had a couple of bruises on the face; the teal-haired teen had a swollen eye, and the ginger coughed out blood.

             Gladys lent her hand to them, a simple offer of help, “Boys, are you oka--” the teal-haired boy slapped her hand away. They scrambled, ran away from them with unsteady feet, injured.

             She said nothing, and so did he. It was an unusual scene in a nice little town like Lakewood, but this was the back of it, the bad side of the town. So it won’t be unusual for this section of the town, and for Gladys; and she did not know that it was for him too. Drowsiness was getting him slow, reminding him of his sleep and rest.

             “I have to be on my way.” he reminded. Gladys snapped out of her mind and turned to face him, “O-oh that’s right. I’m sorry...And I’m sorry you had to witness such an--inhuman scene.”  _ _‘_ There are more inhuman than this you wouldn’t rather know,’ _Venomous thought.

             “I have seen worse.” he said, monotonously. He went back to the car, and found that Fink was still sleeping with her peaceful face. Gladys waved off and continued walking, almost unwilling to go home. He closed his eyes and rubbed it, it was drying.

             They both needed sleep.


	12. Wednesday: Late Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk about cars man, but  
> this is my favorite chapter ;^)

             With an exhausted sigh, he got in the van and drove away from his workplace. Finally after a long day, he got a room to breathe in. Everyone in that damned establishment was breathing down his neck: his employees, salesmen, managers and the worst of all, investors. The board has been keeping a close eye on him as of late. Hmph! As if he can’t run his own business! Those foul business players belittled him--him! _The_ Lord Boxman who established and developed his own business out of a scratch--a strand of hair—out of something small as grain! Out of nothing! All while eight peculiar and stubborn children were under his care. Have they got no respect?!

             These inner thoughts slightly made him more and more agitated. Instead of venting his anger in a meaningless tantrum directed to no one but himself, he stepped on the gas, hands gripping harshly on the wheel. No one and no vehicle was on the road, but if there were, would he stop?  _‘Oh I’ll show them. I’ll show them that my business,’_ he dangerously turned left, _‘is MY own to run.’_ he passed by the Lakewood Estates sign.

             “They can’t tell me what to do!” he laughed hysterically. He never stopped, at least not until he felt the slowing pace of his van. He checked the speedometer: it was rapidly declining down from eighty to twenty, threatening to completely go zero. It was this damn problem again! “Oh no no no no—darling don’t stop now!” he didn’t lift his foot from the gas pedal and kept on driving slow. He was still quite far from home, but he’s in the residential areas now. The speedometer hand showed no sign of rising back up. 

             “Please! Be nice for this one time!” But she didn’t listen, and the van completely stopped. Boxman tried to ignite the van at many attempts, but failed to do so. “Come on, Bubbles girl, you can do this! We’re almost home!” he said gently, as if he was reasoning with a real person. If anything, he was talking more to himself. After the last attempt, he gave up with a groan and shut down the van. He let it rest for a while, she must be tired too. She’s old, but still running and carrying around a family of nine. He got out the van and patted the hood: it was hot to the touch. Diseases are getting to her real fast at that age.

             With nothing to do and no one around, he leaned on the hood and looked up the late night sky. He expected stars glittered on it and a moon over his head, but there was nothing. Even at a small town like Lakewood, where there are few people and less air pollution, the night sky was no different to cities’: blank and empty. Not a cloud, a star, a moon or passing bat. Even the sky doesn’t want to give an ear or something as simple as a view for him. Just proves how much the world hates him so much. Tch.

             Consumed by his thoughts, he didn’t notice a man came out of his home and walked to his direction.

             “I see you have car problems.” Boxman jumped at the raspy voice, abruptly tearing his gaze from the void of a sky. The man wore the dark blue sweater, black pants and had onyx hair and a widow’s peak...Wait a minute. This is Darrell, Shannon and Raymond’s biology teacher!

             Boxman’s heart raced slowly, “A-ah, Professor Venomous! Fancy meeting you here!” He grinned nervously, making a small attempt to brush his hair straight and straighten his coat. After all, this is a science expert who has claimed many achievements, titles, certificates, and graduated at high-class private schools—and oh he could on about this guy. He was waaay beyond his league, comparing your average robotics engineer to an expert and experienced bio-engineer.

             “Nothing fancy about meeting at late hours with a broken down van, Mr. Boxman.” he pointed out. “O-oh of course, silly me, nothing fancy hehe,” he forced a little uneasy laugh, loosening his tie a bit. “And p-please, just refer me as Boxman,”

             “But anyway, she’s old and in need of more rest.” He tapped the van twice as he said it. “B-but she’ll start up any time soon! Just a little stop-over, is all. No help needed.” he said so he wouldn’t worry and stay any longer because he’s starting to sweat and his heart beats faster as seconds pass. 

             Venomous examined the old van with only his eyes: some parts are covered in rust, the window panes were dusty and drawn doodles over (possibly by some kids), the left side mirror had a paper stuck in between (so it wouldn’t become loose) and the wheels were of dirt and unknown coagulate infused together. Geez, looks like she’s in need of a car wash and repairs for long-term use. “So what seems to be the problem?” he asked. Looks like he won’t leave anytime soon. “Lots. Sometimes it’s overheat, other times it’s ATF leak or faulty spark plugs, a dead battery—but she’ll be fine, don’t worry.” he tried to cut the conversation quick. He really wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone else right now, especially to someone like Professor Venomous. He couldn’t even talk or do what he was doing properly when he was around in a normal state.

             “Those sound serious. And solution for this one is...what exactly?” Professor Venomous seemed a bit...off. Of the times he met him, Boxman knew he wouldn’t ask such questions: the questions more for personal gain rather than for business matters. Boxman replied, “I shut down the van and wait for a few minutes. Then I restart up again.”

             “And you don’t suppose to buy a new car? It seems to be growing rusty and inconvenient.” he suggested. Well that was a bit insulting, if Boxman were honest. “W-Well it’s—it’s for many reasons I keep her around. Like for one, I can’t afford to buy a new one now,” _With my business in possible danger, yikes_ “Or I-I don’t know. If I’m honest, family and I really heh g-got a bit too attached with her to the point that we gave her a name,” he smiled as if he briefly remembered a good memory, “And to throw her away is like kicking out a family member.” His expression shifted into a melancholic, but he changed subject in an instant second, “But aaanyway—it’s late night, why are you still awake?”

             Professor Venomous decided if he would lie or not, but he found lying not necessary at this moment with _this_ person. “I couldn’t sleep when earlier I was practically craving for it." Boxman only then noticed more small details on his appearance that he didn’t saw for the past time. His lids were droopy, his eye bags were accented, and his gorgeous raven hair was messy, probably from squirming around to find his position in bed. He didn’t even bother to make himself presentable to Boxman because of his sluggishness and fatigue.

             “Oh I know that feeling well that I’m almost getting used to it.” he shared, in hopes to comfort him that he’s not alone experiencing insomnia. “It’s been weeks since I’ve had a good sleep. And even when I sleep, my mind concocts some sick nightmare.” Venomous said, and though monotonous, vexation was notably present. “And it either wakes you up and never let you sleep or put you in a paralysis.” Boxman laughed wryly. Maybe what Venomous needs right now is a company to get him tired.

             Venomous gave a brief tuckered out grin that went unnoticed by the company, and it honestly lifted up some of the gravity that pulled him down. He sat on the sidewalk and invited Boxman next him, which he gladly accepted. Venomous changed the subject away from him, “How are your kids, Boxman? They were, uh, five--six, right?”

             Boxman smiled at the topic. There were lots to say about his children, both bad and good. Mostly bad though, can’t keep them all in one place for one second. “Eight, and they’re all doing fine. Sometimes they really get to my head, but sometimes they ease it,” He added, “Ernesto and Sara, my two eldest, they’d make great adults. Very responsible and independent, I can always count on them. Shannon and Darrell are often the trouble-makers, but they have blind obedience; and Raymond’s doing great in school, but sometimes get carried away by his siblings. I’m sure you know that.” Venomous nodded. “Mikayla’s always the one to make the mess; that girl seriously is like some kind animal. And my two youngest sons, Jethro and Teagan, they have speech difficulties, you see. But they’re good and loving boys.” These were the words the his children would probably never hear, but would love to. And also the words that their father would never say, not because he wouldn’t love to, but he couldn’t, somehow.

             “But Darrell is just annoying overall. That kid never stops talking.” he found it worthy to note.

             “I’m impressed. You can handle that many and still keep your Boxmore business.” it was genuine. No sugar-coat or lie to get him to like him and make him an asset when...stop. Stop. The thought disappears. Boxman got easily flustered at the compliment, “Oh it’s—it’s nothing I can’t handle. I-I-I mean I have to be great, I have to be strong, I have to be there for them: it’s an obligation for being a parent.” he was very proud to say so. Although, about keeping his business is getting farther and farther from the truth now that Cosma had threatened it.

             “I’m surprised you remembered my company. It’s been a long time since we’ve seen each other.” The only opportunities they get to see each other was in PTA meetings, or when he was called in by the school guidance counselor for a trouble or a casualty (the trio were known trouble-makers after all). But they never meet outside of parent-teacher affairs.

             Venomous was smart but had a bad memory. He constantly puts sticky notes around the house, or lists the things he had to do. So why did remember the details of their conversations months ago? Especially a forgettable person like Boxman. Almost slipping up, he remembered and said, “U-uh well I buy your products, of course I’d remember.”

             Boxman blushed, __‘_ He buys my products?!’_ “You do? W-Well, how-how is it? Is it—is it good?” a bead of sweat rolled down from his temples as he waited for an answer. “Effective and good quality product, I always choose from you.” Is it possible that a heart can race faster than a jet plane?

             “But I’ll be a bit honest with you Boxman, it seems that these days the products aren’t what they used to be,” Boxman’s racing heart stilled, as if time stopped. He continued, “But now I see why. You must be stressed from the pressure of running a big company and taking care of eight children of different ages. I may not get how that feels because I only have Fink and uh, my small job, but I know how pressure and parenting can be.” he offered a comfort to say he’s not alone and hoped it worked. It did, Boxman felt a sense of ease, but he didn’t know.

             “Hard to find folks who value and dedicate themselves to both work and family. And I still keep buying from you, I know not of anyone else who has your skill.” They both smiled.

             It was a light moment. Boxman had never received such a nice thing from anyone other than his children in a long time. It felt comforting and good to know that there are still people in this world that acknowledges his hard work or just him, in general. Maybe people like him, like Venomous, are the forces that deny the world’s natural hatred for him.

             He felt warm at the thought though it was silly. It was as if suddenly he had butterflies flying around in him. He felt comfortable yet uncomfortable at the same time. His cheeks were burning but they were not literally. There was a wave of warmth he didn't know where from that warms his skin; like closing in by a fireplace. He couldn’t explain this familiar unknown joy; he couldn’t put a name on it.

             Recovering from the star-struck, he stuttered out a, “Wh-I-I don’t know w-what to say!” he struggled to find his words, “Thank you! Thank you!” Getting carried away by that joy, he embraced Venomous in his arms tightly. Venomous was startled and alarmed at the contact, but he remembered it’s just Boxman, a harmless man, so what could be the harm in returning the hug?

             Although Venomous knew when someone hugs you you’re supposed to return it back, his body didn’t coordinate with that knowledge and instead, he patted Boxman’s back awkwardly. He was still a stranger to him, maybe that’s why he still wasn’t used to the contact. Not a complete stranger, but...You can’t say. You won’t know.

             Boxman realized he was hugging him and backed away immediately _ _. ‘_ Oh no, that was probably too weird for him. Why did I do that? I just touched someone beyond my league. Oh geez—‘ _Venomous slightly blushed, and Boxman was a total tomato head. The awkwardness was starting torment them as seconds pass, Boxman couldn’t stand it.

             “WELP. Look at the time! She should start up by now! My kids are probably worried off or sleeping. I--should get going because it’s late and we both need sleep. Big day tomorrow!” he laughed nervously, heart still racing from the warm contact earlier. “I gotta go!” he wasted no time getting in the van and starting it up. __‘_ Come on wake up girl!’ _

             His wishes were heard, her engine roared and back working again. Venomous was speechless, standing there idly. The only he could and did do was wave his hand to Boxman as he drove off the road. He looked at his palm, thinking of his stupid pat in the back move. He palmed his forehead, _‘Why did I do that?’_ He yawned and went back in the house.

             He couldn’t stop thinking about it, even though it was just a hug from joy, a natural human reaction. Even when he was in bed, he felt the touch. And oddly, since these thoughts bothered him so much, it was the one who brought him sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two science dads makes a big deal out of a hug and now they're a mess :^


	13. Thursday: A Flame Rekindles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, school is like 7 days away so I might forget to update a bit but don't worry! I'll try to update and write as much time as possible. I'm not going to abandon this, even if it takes me forever (not just gonna bail on my long list of plans! >:3)

             It was Thursday morning when he woke. The alarm clock on his night stand didn’t stop ringing so annoyingly until he shut it off. He did a simple morning stretch and yawned before going straight to the kitchen, not bothering to make effort to fold the sheets and arrange his bed.

             He opened a cabinet to get a cereal box, to the fridge for the milk, and two bowls and spoons. He figured that he was too lazy to make an effort for breakfast too. He boiled some water for coffee, and left it to go to Fink’s room.

             He carefully trod in her god-awful messy room. To visualize; there were way too many socks and worn out shirts scattered about on the floor that she hadn’t put in the laundry, she had some band posters she fawns over poorly posted on the wall, and then there was her in her bed. While she had a peaceful sleeping face, her bed didn’t look peaceful at all. Looks like she would have to learn manners and hygiene later.

             He shook her shoulders, “Fink, Fink, wake up,” She groaned, “Fink it’s school time. And don’t worry classes are suspended tomorrow,” Her ears perked up at the mention of suspended classes. Of course, any student would love a day off. “I’m making breakfast, come down immediately, okay?” he said, voice still gentle.

             He went back to the kitchen and had their breakfast ready and made. He poured the boiled water to his instant coffee. Then the night’s events had come to his mind.

             Insomnia attacked him again, he couldn’t sleep last night. He paced around, cleaned the house (and apparently forgot Fink’s messy room), read some books, and rummaged through Fink’s drawing books—anything to keep distracted from the distasteful thoughts that tried to crawl their way through his mind. From the unknown darkness that tried to invoke the grim past he buried dead for years in his backyard. No wonder it haunted him.

             Fink’s drawing books did keep him distracted for hours; there were so many, and she was very good at it. After he reviewed her drawings, he moved to her origami collection shelf. He purposely bought the shelf for her origamis, so that she won’t throw it away or it wouldn’t end up being a trash to pick up. And now they’re here, and became a small gallery of art for a small talented girl. He felt proud in raising a young artist.

             He was walking around the house, trying to tire himself out and really had nothing to do. That’s when he heard a man talking outside. He peeked from the curtains, and heard a “—you can do this! We’re almost home!” barely heard from inside the house. The man got out of the van and leaned on the hood, gazing up. Venomous contemplated whether he would offer help or not, because it seems like a car trouble. But then again, he doesn’t trust strangers and doesn’t care about them unless they benefit him a use.

             He was going upstairs, back to his room, when he just decided, “You know what, I don’t care.” And went out. He would rather go out there doing whatever than staying in his cold desolated room or in this maddening house, for that matter, and let his darkness have its way with him.

             Events transpired, the conversation felt oddly nice, and eventually ended with _that_ embrace. He hadn’t felt a human contact _that_ close in long decades, except Fink, of course. But she was family and he was not. Sure he had a couple of handshakes from colleagues from work, but it wasn’t exactly like a hug. An intimate and honest hug, one born from simple joy and flattery.

             Fink--rubbing her eye and yawning--entered the kitchen, and he was glad she did. She sat and ate her cereals, and had no complaints about it. They’ve had this kind of breakfast numerous times, because what grand entrée would you expect from a single dad? Also, she kind of liked this type of breakfast; it sates her taste buds and her empty stomach.

             “So the class suspension you said earlier...Was that true or are you just trying to get me out of bed?”

             “It’s true. We got the word from the Department. They’re suspending all classes because there is an impending storm coming. It’s going to be a strong one, lasting ‘til Saturday, they predict.” he informed.

             Fink perked up again at the news, “Alright--!”

            “But. You are not going anywhere without me on Friday and Saturday, okay?”

            “Oh, okay. I don’t have friends anyway, people stink!”

            And there goes his anti-social daughter. After they had finished breakfast, he assembled their things for school while Fink made a quick shower.

 _He_ came to his mind again. It wasn’t the first time he had pondered about the man, but this time Boxman...had successfully caught his interest. Now that he knew more about him, he started to wonder, in midst of assembling: how did he have so many kids? Were they all his biologically or some of them are adopted or all are adopted? How did manage to do that? How far are his limits before he breaks down from the pressure of life he chose? Did he choose that kind of life or was he forced to it?

            Venomous got a towel and entered the bathroom as soon as Fink was done. Was he married? Wait no...He remembered Boxman saying that he wasn’t at one point on some meeting they had in school. Even in the showers, the train of thoughts never stopped.

            Why did he take care of so many children? What happened to his left eye and arm? How terrible was the incident that he had to remove the whole arm and eye and replace them with prosthetics? Functioning prosthetics too, interesting...

            Even when he gets dressed,

            Did he make those himself? Or a friend helped him out? Did he have friends or none like him? He’s a skilled man, but why does it feel like his skill is not known enough?

            Even when he and Fink got into the car,

            Was he rejected by society too? He seemed to be an emotional type, but determined and strong.

            Even in school under a brooding sky,

_'Lord Boxman. A strange name, a strange man with a strange family._

_And a very, very interesting human subject.’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fink is an artist, never tell me otherwise. I mean, have you seen her make origamis and show off her drawings to her dad in the actual show? If you haven't, go watch OK KO all over again.  
> p.s. As you would notice so far, everyone has anxiety and trust issues lmaoo


	14. Thursday: The Lizards on Rats

             As seen in her attitude, one would naturally think that she would be the bully in the bully-victim relationship in school. Who wouldn’t? She was headstrong and determined: her idea, her way. Notably rash and impulsive, had a passion for a good fist-to-fist fight; and was rough on people and about trusting them. Well, let me tell you something different.

             Fink was walking down the hallways of Lakewood Elementary. As she passed by, it can’t be helped that some students would whisper or be frightened to look at her way. She was like a magnet, but in reverse: she repels them. They were scared of her, of her attitude and tendencies, and of her father. She could, by the least, tolerate the rumors and insults about her, but what she cannot accept is when her father is brought to the topic. When the name of her father is spoken in vain, expect her to have another record in the guidance.

             It can’t be avoided too that someone would rival her reputation and power. And a quick question, did she accept this superiority title given to her by the students and teachers? The answer is yes, and that is why the young Lizard Gang became her ultimate rival. Or to be more accurate, she became __their__  ultimate rival.

             Fink could care less about her title, only using it when needed. She saw no point in bullying pointlessly and show who the thug is when clearly everyone knew. And what does bullying profit her any good than getting more pesky records added to her? It gets old when you do it all the time. It’s like drinking juice but the more you put water, the blander it gets. Make it satisfying, right?

             And speaking of the Lizard Gang, Chameleon Jr. purposely extended his foot to Fink’s when she was passing by them. She tripped inevitably, her face scraped lightly on the tile floors and her books laid disarray. Giggles and gasps where heard, it was clear everyone saw that.

             “Oh sorry. Didn’t see you there Finky Winky.” he mocked an apology. He lent his hand out, “Here let me help you up.” Some students were starting to gather around them, they knew this was going somewhere.

             When Fink reached for his hand, he retracted and said, “Psych! Did you really think I’d—huh?!” He was taken by surprise when Fink gripped his wrist and brought him down with her on the floor, face planted on the ground. She stood up, saying, “I appreciate the help bub, but I think your knees were a little too weak to help me up.” A chorus of ‘ooo’s were heard after her line. More students gathered, some prepared their phones just in case there was something to record.

             Annole and Sniff rushed to his aid, but he swatted them off and said he can do it himself. The heat meter warmed up a bit. “Haha! I wonder who was weak enough to trip on my foot just earlier!” He brushed off the dust as a chorus of ‘ooh’ sang after him. Fink picked up her books, “I did, but I snapped it on the way.” Students cheered on her side now.

             Chameleon Jr. hated her, and Fink loved it. In his eyes, she was a mortal enemy, but in hers, he was an entertainment. “Do you need me to help you get to the clinic bub? Or do you want me to fix it myself?” She cracked her fingers, and the students’ cheer of mockery added salt to his burn. That’s it! She’s so unfair! Everything was fine when she didn’t move here. It’s time he takes the Lizard Gang’s title back from her!

             “Alright, rat brat! I’m going to challenge you to a power battle!” A gasp from the crowd, a shake of head from his gang, but a snicker from her. His friends shot worried glances at each other, knowing it was a bad and a rash decision.

             “Challenge me? I’m surprised you took it upon yourself to face me one-on-one, and not hide behind your dad’s back. I see you’re finally growing a spine.” That irritated him even more.

             “My dad is a busy man okay?! A-and I’m not a coward! I’ll prove it when I have you at my feet!” Not satisfied with his reply, he added, “I only pitied your dad and get him out of this fight, because when he faces MY dad, I’m sure he won’t any more than a cup of mashed potatoes!”

             That triggered a person in her. The one she tries to tame, but often gets out of control. But no. She won’t fall for this. It’s a child’s insult, she knows better than to feed it. She grabbed his collar and leaned to his ear. Through her gritted teeth, she uttered clear,

             “Friday. Behind the Plaza. Afternoon.” By then, the crowd dispersed, disappointed by the lack of action. She let them go, and so did they. They went separate ways, but that did not mean that they were done yet.

             What was different about Fink in the bully-victim relationship? Difference is she is and can be both.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woah boy, 5 days more before school woah boye


	15. Thursday: Preparation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trio prepares for the upcoming Friday party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another fav chapter of mine! :^)

             It was Thursday, and tomorrow a Friday. And Friday meant the pre-prom party Rad was going to host. The Boxman trio, as we all know—Darrell, Shannon and Raymond—were very excited about the whole thing. It’s been long too since they had a party, and an _actual_  teenage party, not one of their sibling’s birthday party (that wasn’t much of party at all, if anything). It wasn’t Raymond and Shannon’s first time--they were socially active with their fellow youths--but it was Darrell’s first.

             Darrell did have friends, but whenever they go hang out or have a party together, he was excluded. He was considered a ‘late bloomer’, meaning they saw him more of a kid than an actual teen. Darrell never knew that and will never hear it from them, or from Raymond and Shannon: they didn’t want him to change because of that; they loved him the way he is. They knew Darrell would conform to the modern youth’s ‘cool’ standards to fit in, but they didn’t want that.

             Right now, school’s over for the day, and the trio was going to put motion in their plans after school. They chattered lively, walking along the sidewalk toward the opposite direction of their house. Shannon and Raymond, in reality, were more fussed out about Darrell’s first social party than Darrell himself, but they didn’t let it be obvious (hint: it’s so obvious, but Darrell didn’t notice yet).

             Their plans? Go to a clothes store; buy masks and Shannon’s new dress (she wanted a new one). The party had dress coding for a little spice: like a masquerade but more informal. Anyone can cosplay or be anybody who they want to be: a mystery or a fame. They decided to stick with formal attires for a change. Next thing was to go to the grocery store for some chips, candies and sodas; and lastly, to the Fantastic Video store for movie renting.

             This pre-prom party had a secret after-party for cool kids only, in which the trio was included in too. The after-party had truth-or-dare games and alike, movie marathons, and lay-and-chill chitchats. Although the after-party sounded more of a personal party for Rad and his close friends, the trio was still invited in it which they had found a little odd. Maybe this was Rad’s way to say, __‘_ Hey guys you’re my friends now. Let’s not fight or be behind each others’ backs anymore.’_

             But then again, it doesn’t sound like something he would say and do. Rad knew better than to invite three trouble makers in his party, because that is, in other words, summoning three beasts in your den. And that does not sound too good.

             But the trio had no ill intentions to destroy something at the party or the party itself. They needed to unwind from the pressures of school, peers, from being teenagers, and from home. Home wasn’t home when their father was barking mad at them. Home wasn’t home when there is always missing siblings from the dinner table. Home wasn’t home when it is incomplete and always empty of residents.

             The Boxmans weren’t as they used to be when the Boxmore Industry grew--and when _they_ grew up and became adults and teenagers and young adolescents. But that is for another thought, let’s focus on the upcoming party on Friday night.

             They arrived at the renowned clothes store with a credit card ready in Shannon’s bag. This store was the biggest fashion store you’ll find in Lakewood town, having a good supply of quality clothes from casual and affordable to extravagant and expensive. Various accessories, bags, shoes and yes, the masquerade masks they’re looking for, were all found here. There are for women, men and unisex; it was the most convenient fashion store. Lakewood Turbians were glad to have store in the town, especially for someone like Drupe or Shannon.

             The trio first went to the masks and items section. They examined and searched through each, finding what suits their taste and what would match to their attire.

             Darrell wasn’t much for color schemes in fashion: if he likes it, he’d wear and it would fit to his overall magically. He eyed the sparkly red one to remember, just in case he couldn’t find any. On the other hand, Shannon was all about fashion. She _is_ the epitome of good fashion. She was very excited to go over the Women’s clothes section, but she had to put this first.

             While searching over, she found a pantalone commedia dell’arte mask, although she didn’t know what it was called. It had its thick brows furrowed comically, the forehead’s creases and cheekbones accented, the skin sag exaggerated, and the nose part was overtly big. It gave her an idea.

             Meanwhile, Raymond too was searching for his. And like his sister Shannon, he loved a good fashion. Their difference is that Shannon preferred modern, and Raymond preferred classics. But both agree that they don’t mind the other way around: they respected the wide spectrum of fashion, and like everyone should be, they don’t hate other people’s fashion just because they are different from theirs. But that doesn’t mean they wouldn’t tease the other for their wear most times, like a typical siblings thing.

             Raymond and Darrell were too caught up in searching that they didn’t notice Shannon was gone. And that someone was coming up from behind. Closer and closer...

             Darrell picked up a mask, “Hey Ray, do you think this would do i--”

             “BOO!”

             “AH!”

             He dropped the mask, hands in defense while Raymond took a step back from the surprise but no sound escaped from him. Shannon laughed under her mask, and was basically rolling off the floor. The boys rolled their eyes at her, Darrell swore a comeback later and Raymond shrugging it off with a ‘whatever’. She always loved scaring her siblings.

             As more time passed, they had finally found what they liked. Darrell chose a simple dark crimson mask with symmetrical swirl designs at opposite sides of the eye and gold rhinestones affixed on the edges of the mask under the eye-holes. Shannon chose a complicated yet elegant black lace-designed mask with gold outlines on the eyelid parts and small gold rhinestones carefully placed on different parts-- making it not messy to look at—and amber feathers on the right eye. Raymond chose an apple green lace mask with very intricate and detailed swirl designs, and gold rhinestones glittered the right parts—making it visible to eye yet not completely taking the spotlight on the overall—and lastly, small colorless beads at the very end of the three threads that hung itself along the edges of the mask under the right eye—making it look like little diamonds.

             Now they moved to the Women’s clothing section for Shannon’s dress hunting. The boys helped Shannon in the search; they would get a dress in which they think fits their sister and see if she approves of it. Though it sounded so easy since three of them were searching, it was unfortunate at times that Shannon had high standards for clothing.

             It’s too simple, that’s too elegant; I don’t like the color, too dark, too bright; the texture is rough, silk is not appropriate for the event; size too small or too big; too much design, no designs—what does she want?!

             “Girls are so complicated man.” Darrell said, and looked some more. “Said everyone ever.” Raymond pulled out the skirt to rub the texture and found it too silky. It’s probably been an hour now, and they _really_ needed to go the Fantastic Video right now so that they could go home without suspicions.

             Darrell and Raymond took a dress with them and went in a fitting room stall, not caring about the weird stares some customers near the waiting area gave them. Hey, if they were going through tormenting never-ending dress-hunt, they might as well make a fun time out of it.

             Meanwhile Shannon, ever patient and analytical, rummaged through the dresses and took one out. She went to a fitting room stall with at least four dresses on her left hand and gave all a try out. While Shannon was trying out, Raymond and Darrell came out wearing yellow and pink sundresses and twirled around, the skirts swaying smoothly in motion.

             “I didn’t know you looked so good in dresses Ray!” Darrell complimented, stars in his eyes. Raymond blushed at the comment, and praised back, “I didn’t know you could be so cute in it!” They both smiled, Raymond pinched his cheek.

             And that’s when they started messing around a few more dresses. Off-shoulders, skimpy skirts, fitted spaghetti, ruffled, slitted, cocktail—all in varied colors, designs and sizes. It made both of them appreciate dresses even more; who knew they could be so comfy and light? And of course, it can’t be helped that they’d receive judging glares. Not that they care anyway.

             It so happens that the three stepped out their stalls at the same time in different dresses.

             Shannon’s jaw dropped at the sight of the two who just gave innocent smiles. Well, they came along in the Women’s clothing section and were supposed to help her look for dresses, not wear them. But her reaction wasn’t harmful as they doubted.

             “Oh my gosh! You guys look so cute in those! Hold that pose! I have to take a pic.” She fished out her phone and took a quick snap at them posing flamboyantly. Shannon then fawned over Darrell’s blue-hued black high-waist pencil skirt and tangerine bustier with pale lemon lace covering the shoulders up to the forearms, ending in heavy ruffles. Well, Shannon and Darrell’s body size were __almost__  close to being the same. Maybe this would fit her! Maybe this is the one and the agonizing and endless search would finally be over.

             Darrell wasted no time in handing the dress over to her. The moment Shannon came out the fitting room, horizon was drawn at their line sight as the non-existing sun rose in all its glory.

             It was finally over.

 

* * *

 

             The trio wasted no more time entering Gar’s Bodega, bolting straight to the snacks aisle. They grabbed many, with different flavors and types, and dropped them on their basket. After they grabbed snacks, they put a good amount of soda drinks in their basket. Darrell sneaked a few candy and chocolate bars on the basket without either Shannon or Raymond’s notice. They didn’t mind though when they were at the cashier.

             They walked a few more distance to where the Fantastic Video store was situated. Inside the video store; there were aisles of different movie genres, a couple of advertisement signs hung up, some neon-lit signs, a small Comics & Magazines corner, and a vivid-bubblegum-haired cashier over the counter. Her feet were rested on the counter as her back laid back and her phone occupied her gloved right hand. That was Red Action, who cared to shoot a quick glance at the trio that entered.

             The trio took separate ways, as they had agreed on earlier on their walk here. Darrell was going to pick sci-fi and action films, Raymond’s was romance and drama, and horror and thriller for Shannon.

            The trio loved films. It has been long too since they had a movie marathon together.

            They picked out a two or three each, some they’ve already watched and some are new releases. Some of it were Wars of the Stars, All Saints’ Eve, The Fog, A Stroll to Remember and Free Falling. They rented it, and finally took journey back home.

             And oh, it’s a late hour.


	16. Thursday: Under Heavy Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neil shares an experience, and Ernesto had caught someone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> forgot to update yesterday oopss

             Neil had offered him a ride again. It was weird considering they were nothing more than co-workers. It can’t be that his offers were out of kindness; almost everyone in their workplace hated their boss, and therefore, the son too.

             Unless he had a motive. Maybe his father was right.

             Or maybe Ernesto was over-thinking this out. Still, he accepted the offer since his father said he wasn’t coming home with him tonight. He can commute, but a free ride can save. Ernesto had asked his father about the meeting with the board at some time, but he refused to say anything about it. His father constantly either avoided the question by doing something or lie with a ‘everything’s fine’. It left him to wonder if the meeting went very horrible.

             Right now, Ernesto and Neil were in the car under a dark sky and heavy rain. It has been raining a lot as of late. And if he can remember, there will be a heavy storm coming to Lakewood, predicted that Friday would be the actual downpour. All classes were suspended--lucky students--but nothing for workers. Maybe not yet.

             The heavy rain was oddly calming despite it spearing down heavily; accompany the misty chill, the quiet peace and the landscape outside. It definitely soothed the tension from work that he didn’t know was there.

              Ernesto asked him this time, “May I ask? I-If you don’t mind me asking,” Neil gave no response, and he took it as a sign to continue, “Why are you always offering me a ride home?”

              “Oh, It’s...actually--I’m doing this for me.” Oh. That makes...no sense?

              “I’m afraid to go home alone these days. Not when there’s a threat around town, not when I’ve encounter him.”

              Ernesto knew he was talking about the Shadow Snakes. He couldn’t relate, so what could he give? “How did you exactly encounter this...Shadowy Figure?” he asked. Neil gulped, the memory playing in his mind, but still he told him.

              “I was at the Plaza at that time. It was Monday night, was tired from work, and I’ve recently bought from Gar’s. There hadn’t been anyone there, save for those closing down their stores. I was going to the parking lot--to my car--when, when I--”

              His hands were harshly gripping the wheel. He continued, voice becoming unstable, “He-He was inside my car. Inside my car! Doing whatever he does. I don’t how or when or why but he was there! I was freaking the crap out! I just f-froze there and let him go through my s-stuff,” he breathes.

              “And then, then--He saw me.”

              His memory of that night was vivid. Too vivid that whenever he remembered it, he felt like the moment was alive and repeating itself. Like he was there again. Still unable.

              “He saw me! I was still frozen in my place, and then he walked towards me. E-Ernest, you see he’s not like any other burglar or a criminal--he didn’t hijack my car when he had the chance!” he let out a short overwrought laugh.

              Ernesto stilled on his seat, not knowing how he would react. So he kept listening while the other kept talking.

              “He didn’t run away like any criminal would do once they get caught--He freaking approached me! Then--Then he whispered to me. He said that I should--I should be careful next time. I mean, what a nerve right?!”

              Neil’s voice wavered the more he spoke, a sardonic grin plastered across his face. “I turned around to face him the moment I had myself together, but that too was the moment he disappeared out of thin air.” Ernesto had to ask, “Well, did you tell the police about this?”

              His grin fell, what he must be feeling is indescribable on the outside. All he gave was a simple, “No.”

              He shook his head, “No, no Ernest. I inspected my car--inside out, up and down--and there was nothing. No mess, no trace, no bombs planted, no things taken, no missing chip, not a dent--the only thing he left was an open car door.”

              That is very strange. What could he have done there in the first place?

              “There was nothing out of place. I don’t know what he did. And that is the scariest of all.”

              The fear of not knowing. The fear of being in the dark. One where everything seemed normal to the eye, but wrong by intuition. “That’s why I can’t tell the police--they won’t believe me! Not unless I have a solid proof he was there, then it didn’t happen. And he took nothing or did anything to me or my car, so what is there to hunt? Him? Who absolutely done nothing? It won’t mean anything to them, Ernest, not until someone’s actually hurt.”

             “Have you tried?”

             “I did, but it was different cases from long ago. I’ve grown to never trust them, because they did nothing but make false promises!” Anger took over him, which is not good to sum up with driving after a long day of work.

             Ernesto said with a bit of hope, “You should try at least one more time, see if they believe this time. You did say that others have seen him too, maybe they had reported as well. And if that piles up into a big mount, they finally see it as a problem and take action.”

             Neil expressed a glum smile, “Thanks Ernest, but…who’d believe a bunch of rascal teens and young adults? The only ones who’ve seen him were Drupe, Brandon, Coleworth--hell _Dogmun_ said he saw,” he laughed with no hint of lightness, “And the last: me.”

             No more words came after that. They just listened to the rain and let it relieve them. No sooner they passed by Lakewood Plaza Turbo, the most renowned and the trademark of Lakewood town. Gar’s Bodega was the center of it, by the far right is the Internet Cafe; and by the far left is Air 2 Go, a hardware store. Citizens frequent in the Plaza for some reason. Guess it was convenient and also a great hangout place?

             It was only a moment, like flashing lights, when __he__  was caught unknowing in Ernesto’s line of sight.

             That man with a stitched-up scar on his jaw and a green jacket. Ernesto saw him one time talking to Jethro, it was a harmless talk. But he felt incredibly uncomfortable once he observed. Whenever they go to the Plaza, Jethro had been disappearing and appearing out of nowhere; Jethro must’ve been seeing this man since he only does this when they’re at the Plaza. Ernesto learned to put a closer eye and a tighter grip on Jethro after that.

             Then the second, the man was gone. The car was moving forward, it never stop for anything else but the stoplights. Soon they arrived at the Lakewood Estates, and then to the Boxman residence to drop off Ernesto. He thanked him and waved off.

             Through the gundown of the rain, he heard two voices.

             Arguing.

             It didn’t come from their house, but from across the street. A silhouette of two teens were barely visible through the thick mist of the rain and the dead dark of the night. One of them was lanky and thin, while the other was round framed, but both were around the same height. He listened though barely audible… It was something about the other’s fault.

             Blaming.

             It was common at young age, maybe they’re just a couple of teens who played a childish quarrel. Nothing uncommon here in Lakewood, considering the amount of children, teens and young adults.

             Ernesto finally took shelter in the house, folding the umbrella and taking off his coat. He plopped down the couch, kicking off his shoes and decided to relax for a moment before arranging all this.

             Today was particularly tiring, even for a work-enthusiastic employee like Ernesto. It’s like his job tripled, and perhaps his co-workers’ too since the office was especially heated this day. Not that he minded doubles and multitasking, but...why so sudden without a word?

             But he still was scheduled with an early out. When he asked his father to make him work overtime, he refused still. And speaking of his father, the summed up unusual office heat was nothing compared to his. Through the halls, you’ll hear him yell and bark orders. And the supervisors were actually doing their job right for once, not just patrolling around with papers and coffee useless in their hands.

             What’s with the uptight? Could it really be the meeting with the board he’s been avoiding to talk about so much? The more he thought about it, the more curious he got. His train of thoughts broke off by the sound of a door opening. It was the door in the living room that opens to their garden outside--wait what?

             He turned his head and caught the infamous Boxman trio. In wet clothes. Holding plastic and paper bags.

 

             Uh oh.

 

             They smiled, knowing their doom.

             “ _ _Where__  have you three been?” he asked, eyeing the bags they’re holding. He’s got a clear idea, but he wanted to hear from them. They weren’t supposed to be out anymore because school’s been over for some time now.

             The boys nudged their elbows at Shannon, urging her to speak up. She shot a ‘you’re going to pay later’ at them, and explained, “Ah--hehe we were…shopping a moment ago--”

             “Why were you shopping in the middle of a heavy rain?!  _And_ at night?!” Ernesto took a deep breath, like a mayor holding a long speech, or a parent preparing a solid lecture. 

             Oh boy, really now?

             Shannon straightens her posture, also preparing to fire back, “We won’t have the time tomorrow. AND just so you know, we can take care of ourselves at whatever might happen--”

             “You don’t know that. You’ll never know what might happen, especially to you, young teens.”

             Raymond said, “Are you underestimating us, brother? Have you forgotten of the things we’re capable of?” Darrell joined in, “Yeah! We’re not kids anymore!” The sister was about to say her part, but Ernesto got in first, “What did you purchase anyway? Wasting money, huh? __Again__?” He was going for their bags and snatch them.

             “Why do you care?!” Shannon swatted his hand away, “It’s our stuff and ours, go stick your nose elsewhere!”

             The eldest, slightly offended, “It IS my responsibility to know what my younger siblings are doing, of course I care! Who knows what you are doing with your money or what you’re planning now, or what you are getting yourselves into!”

             Out of the three, Shannon was the most agitated and hot-headed of them. She was a balloon inflated to its limits, ready to burst if so much as a finger touches her. Ernesto rant on and on, until she bursts, “FINE! You want to know what’s in it? Go look!” She pried the other paper bags from her other two brothers and tossed them in front of Ernesto. “You want to know what’s our plan? Well, we are going to __actually__ breathe for once and party up at Rad’s, and WE are NOT going to let this house keep us from being happy anymore, starting tonight ‘til tomorrow,or so help me Ernesto! I’ll burn down this damned house!”

             The boys were silenced by only the surface of her wrath. Raymond and Darrell worried she’s going to lose herself, but they found themselves unable to help her. Ernesto, unable to say anything else, “Go to your rooms.”

             The trio picked up the unchecked paper bags and headed for the stairs. Shannon said, before taking a step on the stairs, “Keep it up Ernesto, and no sooner you’ll be just like Dad.”

 


	17. Thursday: When Thoughts Cross

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boxman finishes the last requirements, and inevitably delves into thoughts alone in Boxmore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes I'm super late, but here ya go. I didn't triple-check, so there might be mistakes and not thought of thoroughly ^^;

             Boxman vowed to stay in his office until next morning. He vowed to work extra hard now that his job is at stake. And if his job is affected, consider the maintenance for his family affected too.

             Boxmore Industry had it great going; his business supplied extras for his family, and they were able to buy a house and lot, support his children’s education (six of them were still in high school and elementary, he wasn’t sure if he could get them all to college), to buy expensive clothes, shoes and all. He had a bank account, and so does Ernesto, so they had saved up money too in case. To save up money, it was someone else’s idea.

             But what if he loses all that to some stupid wager?

             It sounded stupid. The money he and Ernesto had saved up and the money they earned from the company could support the whole family’s needs for a long time, if they were careful with its use. But he cannot guarantee that. What if there were emergencies? What if they lost their accounts and never got to retrieve it? What if, what if...

             There were many scenarios that could happen. He knew that if he lost his business, he would either have to restart from a scratch or work under someone’s company. He didn’t like both, but he disliked the latter more. He didn’t want to lose one of the most of which he treasures; and for him, Boxmore was more than just a business, more than an establishment or some company. It was an entirely different thing; it meant so much more, it held comfort and safety to him, and most of all: it held memories of the past he could not forget no matter how hard he wanted to.

             He sighed. He really didn’t want to think about that now.

             It can’t be helped because those scenarios are now possibilities that have a high chance of happening. Boxman shifted his focus on the papers in front of him instead. Like he was supposed to, anyway. He spent an hour or two on those stacked up papers--not taking any second of break--before he went to different areas of the establishment to inspect: the offices, the manufacturing area, the conference room--the whole establishment, every nook and cranny. He cleaned and arranged some stuff on the way.

             Usually, he’d feel like someone were at his back whenever he’s alone. Like someone plotting against him, or just creeping up. But in Boxmore, all those dreadful feelings vanish. There was an odd comforting aura to these tiles, metal pipes and metallic walls; familiarity in the air—the smoke and the smell of burnt aluminums , steel and what-more are included—and every room, in every step he took further. There were cracks on the wall that tells a story, and some don’t; the window panes he touched reflects an ordinary day of his past in that room.

             Blagh! He wasn’t there for the sake of nostalgia.

             He spent more than hours inspecting the whole facility before he went back to his office with a cup of coffee in his hand. He laid back and sipped coffee, because he was done. His job was done. The list of tasks to do was all checked. And yet, he couldn’t help but feel like that wasn’t enough.

             He rechecked some documents and schedules, and it was all approved and fulfilled. Their production schedule caught up now, he did put a tight belt on his employees. Poor employees beaten the whole day under his supervision, their animosity toward him must’ve grown a stronger flame by now. But he had no choice or else he--no-- _all of them_ were going to lose their jobs.

             That’s right. He wasn’t the only one at stake here, but a thousand employees and their families too. But that isn’t too important to keep in mind, what does care about them?

             He just sat there, sipping his coffee and alone in the office. Or the whole building, save for the night guards. With nothing else to think of, he considered buying a new van.

             Bubbles was old and an ancient history if you would track back. She can still run, but not like she used to in the old days. He wanted to replace her--he HAS to--but somehow he can’t bring himself to. There was a feeling in his gut that goes weak at the thought of giving up something that he shared a lot of memories with. He hated to say it, but he was starting to grow sentimental to things. It was a part of growing old, after all.

             But to consider his children, he won’t be able to pass her down like a family tradition. She had a lot of diseases, somehow like him. Maybe he was right. Maybe Venomous was right. He can’t keep her like this. Like he can’t keep him.

             He coughed loudly, disrupting his own thoughts. Welp, look at the time! He still have a few hours to sleep. Or maybe craft some electronics, he doesn’t know. Something to keep him distracted.

             Distracted--from what again?

             “Well ain’t that the spirit!” He reached for a fresh new blueprint and a pencil from somewhere in his drawers (the desk of mystery, as an employee once called it). Maybe he can make new upgrades on his products, something to keep his customers and investors still want it. And maybe, still want him.

             He started sketching his latest invention. No, it can’t be that they want him. Nobody liked him. All they want from him is his skill, his inventions and nothing more! Just like he wanted nothing but their money and loyalty. Who cares about them anyway?! It’s a producer-buyer relationship, no more than that. He shouldn’t be wasting time thinking about _him_ and how to please him. _He_ wasn’t the only customer he had. He had thousands of loyal buyers out there, _he_ didn’t matter---

             The pencil’s tip snapped.

             He reached for a sharpener in his drawer again and started to sharp away. He went back to sketching after the tip was sharpened, now unsure of what is next.

             What was he thinking? He did matter. Professor Venomous...He stayed loyal, he still kept buying from him even though he knew the quality was becoming inadequate. He stayed, knowing he can be inconvenient at times.

             His sketching hand slowed as the words played in his mind loud and clear,

_“Hard to find folks who value and dedicate themselves to both work and family. And I still keep buying from you,”_

             “I know not of anyone else who has your skill.” he said.

             He smiled, a sheepish and ridiculous smile that extended ear-to-ear. His heart beats, hammering against his chest and reminding him he still had one. With a lover’s sigh, the beating of his heart slowed its pace, and it created a warm and mellow feeling in him.

             He always experiences this amazing and unknown feeling whenever he thought of him. It started long ago; he didn’t exactly know when, but this was from a long time ago. It was a wonderful feeling, sure, but it was short and unsatisfying and almost painful. It’s like looking through the glass, inside looking out. Like watching other people bathing in the sun and fresh air, while he in the dark and cramped box with only a window to see others have their life the way they have it.

             And then he came.

             And he saw him through the glass too. It was great knowing someone sees him, but it was painful knowing he can never touch. That he can never get out of this prison. That he can never be with him outside and share the bliss of life together.

             A sad tale of an eternally condemned man.

             It was silly, but that’s what he always thought. He finished his sketch, now not really knowing what to do with it. He thought some more, not about the sketch, but about the Professor.

             What if, maybe if they were to be in a tale, he was the condemned and Venomous was his liberator? It was silly, but it wasn’t the silliest he thought of. What if Venomous is actually the one to break the glass? What if he is the first he holds hands with?

             He forcibly coughed loud. He didn’t like thinking about it, yet at the same time, he liked to. Gah! It was confusing to describe. There was always a ‘yet’, he couldn’t say words straight. If this feeling _was_ this famous so-called--bleugh, he hated saying it-- _“love”_ , then maybe...

             He damned himself worse than he did in a cramped box.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is Friday! And it's going to be a bit messy. Only a bit.


	18. Friday: A Day Under a Nice Weather

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Friday begins with a lovely nice weather of blue skies and light clouds, what could go around?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had fun playing these scenes in my head! So the flow would be continuous, from one person changing to another's perspective by lotsa ways, one ex. Person A drinks water then puts it down on the table, and at the same time, Person B also puts it down but now, the view changes to Person B! If you catch my drift. It will have this flow for the whole Friday.  
> Anyway, read up!

             So far, there hadn’t been a single drop of rain this Friday. The sky was still blue and the clouds were light, it was to doubt whether the weather was going to be nice to Lakewood town. But who knows, it could change any moment now, weather _is_ abnormal in the age of global warming.

             Nonetheless, Mikayla couldn’t care much more about it. That is because: one, classes suspended; and two, storm or not, she had no plans of going outside. She’d rather take this day for relaxation and a marathon watching of Stein’s Portal. It was an anime series where a scientist uses his time travel powers to go back to the past with a mission. He accidentally opened up a portal, and named it after his own upon the discovery. But spoiler, his name wasn’t really Stein--it was Okarin, but he changed it after a tragedy.

             Mikayla had invested her time with it; it‘s been so intense after season one. Right now, she’s started up a new episode.

 _ _"_ Sore o yamete! Okarin!” _Mayu, her favorite, pleaded. __“_ Yurusarenai! Watashi wa kare o yurusanai!” _Stein didn’t stop stabbing the man.

             Wow. He’s truly gone mad now, unlike in season one. He even joked about being a true “mad scientist” and now he is one. And he’s not realizing it.

 _ _"_ Daga mo ima wa owatta! Watashi wa koko ni imasu!” _Mayu embraced him from behind, tears swelling up. That’s when Stein stopped. Dramatically, his hand shook and the bloody knife fell from his hand. In his mind, he asked himself, _“Watashi wa nani o yatte iru...?”_

             Mikayla was moved when he turned to hug her back, despite him being soaked in blood.

 _“Anata wa koko ni ori, watashi wa koko ni imasu.”_ He started to cry as well. __“_ Anata wa anzendesu...Anata wa anzendesu!”_

             Mikayla’s eyes became blurry with tears--a-ahem she meant--sweat! It was eye sweat!

             A voice interrupted her from watching. A call from the garden. “Mikayla? Mikayla, are you there?” Mikayla immediately opened up her window (their shared room in the second floor was right next the garden). “Hey Mikayla! Can you grab the fertilizer from the garage? I forgot to bring it!” she requested, abashed. Mikayla gave a thumbs up and disappeared from the window.

             While Sara waited, she watered some flowers on the garden. She actually could get those fertilizers from the garage, but she felt really felt lazy today. Maybe it was the nice weather today? It wasn’t as hot as usual. It was a little odd, if she remembered, it was supposed to rain today. She wouldn’t mind if the skies changed its schedule, though. Mikayla came running to her with the requested fertilizer in hand. She gave her thanks and let her go back to her room.

             Sara loves gardening, even though she loved destruction too. Or, well, used to. Destroying, it was a dominant trait from long ago she buried. She’s alright now, never had the urge to do such in a long time. Maybe it was her time with the family and her father that caused to change her heart. Sara had the responsibility of taking care of two kids, Jethro and Teagan, and the management of the house. It was tiring, but it averted her from doing...horrible things.

             She looked through the window, in the living room where Jethro and Teagan watched television. Well, Teagan was watching, but Jethro was reading. Those twins were alike, yet still different. Sara loved them, and in unconditional return, they loved her too.

             The twins continued indulging in their hobbies. Jethro turned a new page of his book titled “An Eagle’s Eye View: A City Called Life” by Theodosia. The book wasn’t his, but his father’s. Jethro knew how to read--despite a little problem--and understand, but not speak it properly out loud. In fact, he had a deep vocabulary for an eight year old. He wanted to write on his own, but he had a bit of a trouble writing and spelling too. But that didn’t stop him from doing it though, he had his family, his siblings, his friend and his tutor and his wife who supported him. He was very happy.

             To contrast Jethro’s book reading, Teagan loved watching films, movies, animation--as long as it was a good watch. Sometimes he would watch along with the trio on their movie marathons, although that rarely happens anymore. So learned to watch on his own, and he learned his movie tastes after doing so. Apparently he loved noir, sci-fi, and psychological horror genres. He loved this one movie about a soldier who lost all his five senses, he struggled in escaping his mind but he couldn’t move. He couldn’t do anything. If he remembered, the title was “Johnny’s Got His Revolver”. It made him think about a whole lot, it crept up in his mind for a whole week.

             Right now, he was watching “Dramatic Fanatic”, a vintage comedy television series he found in his father’s old collection. It was a fun dig, by the way.

 _ _“_ Sally, my dear! Forget those Hiccup and Muggy brats! They don’t worth your time--”_ her husband tried to ease her shoulders. But she never eased, she was still looking through the window across the streets where two young teens were going about their lives.

 _“Just like you are, Jack!”_ there was a laughter of a crowd sound effects. _ _“_ Those dumb kids think they can thrash around my garden and come out of it without a scratch?! I won’t allow! Kids are dumb and I’m never having one in my home!”_

 _ _“_ But Sally dear, we already have a child ourselves!” _Jack lifted a baby in his arms. Another chorus of laughter and applause.

             Comedy wasn’t Teagan’s flavor, but an inner smile managed to form. His throat was beginning dry, so he went to the kitchen to quench the thirst when he walked in on Raymond quickly shutting the fridge and running upstairs with a bunch of unknown items cradled in his arms.

             Raymond ran as fast as he could to Jethro and Teagan’s room where Darrell and Shannon were waiting. He quickly shut the door with his back as soon as he got in the room. They wore their fancy clothes underneath leather jackets and coats. Raymond put all the fresh cold sodas in an empty plastic bag and tied it a very secured knot.

             With the paper and plastic bags ready, Shannon said excitedly, “Alright, everything ready? You ready? Come on!” Darrell and Shannon jumped around. They really were excited for this. Raymond raised his hand, which simmered their excitement a bit, “Hold on, is it really necessary to use the window as our escape route? No one’s downstairs but Jethro and Teagan anyway, we could just go to the garage--”

             His sister raised a finger to her lips, then shook her head, “Shh! Ray, Ray, Ray. You know me right?” he nodded, awaiting, “Then I don’t doubt you know I watch drama series. You know, where runaway teens, in all their angst, use the window as escape pad.”

             Raymond got the message and said, “Ooh! I know where you’re getting at!” Darrell added, “It’ll be totally classic!”

             “Yeah, I like the sound of that!”

             “Sounds a bit mischievous, doesn’t it?”

             “And we’ll also gain the experience of climbing down a tower! Come on!” Shannon went first. She had already prepared for this; she got some laundry sheets (which no one bothers ever), tied them together and tested if the knot was strong enough. After she made the rope sheets, she tied it on something heavy and let the rest fall out the window.

             The trio sure do love thrills and adventure.

             Shannon, without the paper bags in hand, gripped tight on the sheets as she carefully climbed down. She was a bit shaky, but she landed on the ground safe. She motioned her hands for the bags and caught them when the boys dropped them down. Raymond followed after, and then Darrell. No one got hurt, thankfully. Shannon tugged the sheets from below, trying to remove it from its tie, and successfully did so. She hid the sheets in some bush, she can’t return it back inside.

             After clearing the evidence, they got on their bikes: Darrell on his own, and Raymond carrying Shannon on the back of the bike. Darrell couldn’t find balance in having another person’s weight in the same bike. They pedalled and pedalled, passing by houses of different structures sheltering different kinds of families.

             One of the houses they passed by was their professor’s. Inside Professor Venomous’ humble home, there were only two residents. One, the owner himself who occupied his time with school plans and such; and two, his young green-haired daughter Fink who was doing nothing but to wait.


	19. Friday: The Rain Begins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omggg it's been forever! Sorry for the delay, been busy with school haha

             Fink had a scheduled power battle with the Lizard Gang leader, but she couldn’t get out of the house. Her father didn’t allow her because of the stupid predicted storm. The weather outside was just fine! Kids were even playing outside, why would she be any different? She wished her father could take a moment to look at the white fluffy clouds plastered across the sky of baby blue. The prediction was probably wrong, it’s just a prediction anyway. But storm or not, she knew her father would never allow her anywhere out in the open without him or an assigned guardian.

             Her first attempt was to convince the boss with her irresistible doe eyes. __“_ Can I go outside Dad? Just to go play over at KO’s house.” _But that didn’t work.

  1. He knows she uses those eyes for some malicious plan.
  2. She never plays with other kids unless she’s told to or there’s violence involved.
  3. She and KO were never friends, even though Venomous saw the kid making efforts.



             The second attempt was to do chores. A good deed means a reward after. She was _coincidentally_  sweeping the floor in front of him, and the faucet was running _loud_ enough to be heard in the study room. But that didn’t work also.

  1. He knows when she’s doing something good, she wants something out of it. Like going outside, for example.
  2. She was doing chores at a very convenient timing at a very convenient place.
  3. Never was she a cleaner of a mess, but a contributor of it.



             She didn’t even go for a third attempt, her father was a smart man. He did study human behaviors and such, and she was too transparent. She’s going to have to try harder to get through him.

             But she didn’t. She already had enough with convincing and deceiving. She locked the door of her room, and stuck a chair underneath the doorknob just in case. Like the trio did earlier, she knotted the sheets of her bed and let it drop out the window. She climbed down with such expertise and wasted no second heading to the town Plaza.

 

             Fink arrived at the Plaza, where citizens usually bustle about. There aren’t too many citizens at this day, somehow. But she didn’t care about any of that or any of their lives. Right now she had a personal mission to do. She headed to the back parking lot of the Plaza.

             The back Plaza wasn’t used and visited frequently, since there was wide space area of parking lot in the front enough for the amount of Lakewood citizens. The back of the Plaza were mostly for those who came from the north; there was a connecting road from the north main road to the back of the Plaza. And for other uses: a hangout place for cool kids, shady exchange area (the big owner of the Plaza didn’t allow it though), and a space for thug fights (another he didn’t allow). Like what she’s about to do right now.

             “Well, well, well. The rat came after all. I almost thought you backed out,” his gang snickered. Fink asked, “And what makes you think I’d back out? Not after you insulted my father!”

             Chameleon Jr. glanced over his watch (where’d he get that?), and said, “Hmm. Let me see. Twenty-six minutes late?”

             She didn’t have time for any more chitchats, and this was eating up time. She must get back before the boss finds out. “I haven’t got all day, bub. So let’s just get to the point.”

             He smirked, punched a fist on his palm to test his might while she simply cracked her fingers and got in her fighting stance. The gang watched from the back, as they were told to by their leader. They didn’t approve of this idea, actually, but now all they can do is to not interfere whatever happens. It’s a rule in a power battle, after all.

             The distance between them was far, giving them enough space for momentum. Their eyes narrowed as the blue sky earlier fades into grey and the clouds brood heavily. Soft rumbles of the sky can be heard as if it were from a distance. The image of a fine weather just minutes ago becomes indistinct and made it a memory from days ago as the first few light droplets of rain befell upon them and the ground.

             With clenched fists and repressed bitter feelings; a lightning ripped across the sky, akin to their repressive skin being torn and they bore a whole new person of spite as they lunged forward, ready to land a fist to the other—

 

 

             A fist slammed on the table woke him up. He jolted right up, like a dead rising from his grave. Confused, he found himself still in his office. He must have fallen asleep last night. He lifted his chin and found a ginger-haired woman on front of him with her fist on his desk and the other on her hip.

             Cosma? What is she doing here?

             Then it struck him.

             “C-C-Cosma! My, what a morning! I must’ve fallen asleep without noticing buuut I’m awake now! And--Oh! How can I forget! I have good news for you—“

             “Save your breath, Boxman. I’m not going to need the news.” She interrupted, coolly. She seemed so chill; she was wearing sunglasses, her usual teal gloves, a dark brown fur coat and a cold coffee shake on her hand. From the straw, she sipped. Casually. As if there were no men packing up stuff in boxes in the background.

             Why the hell is she so cool about this?! “But I—B-But, why? And what’s going on over there?” he asked, very concerned. He tilted his head to get a better view on the doorway, but Cosma blocked him and replied, “Look, I know you worked hard to catch up with the production schedule and sales and all that, but,” she paused, taking a sip on her drink,

             “You’re still fired.”

             His jaw dropped. Did he just...lose his job? His own business?!

             “What.”

             She ignored and hollered for an assistant. She commanded something about packing up the office. How dare she!

             “Cosma! Wait! I-I can’t lose my job! I didn’t leave—I never left the establishment for a whole twenty-four hours just for this—stupid—wager. I stayed up all night and have my employees gun me with curses,” She didn’t seem to listen anyway; she pointed some of his stuff like the wall clock and the prop plants for the guy to take away. “—You-You can’t take that away! Cosma, I did what you asked of me and I succeeded, what more could you want--?!”

             “I want nothing more from you, Boxman. That is why I’m not going to keep funding your business.” was all she said.

             And that was what he still couldn’t accept.

             “But that’s unfair. That’s unfair, you could’ve at least told me—“ he collapsed on his knees. It was over. Was it over? Yes. Maybe. No, yes it is.

             “Told you what? That the board was long planning to get rid of you the first few months since the partnership? We can’t do that. And yes, it is unfair. It’s a long-formed animosity plus a last minute decision, after all.”

             More men came in and helped packing away: the drawers, file organizers, desk lamp, chairs, the framed paintings of unknown artists. A man walked up to him and handed him a small picture frame. “You might wanna take this before it gets mixed up.” It was a picture of his family. All them were complete here, Ernesto, Sara, Darrell, Shannon, Raymond, Mikayla and the small twins. This was taken from their last vacation.

             “Sorry, Boxman. This is your business and we’re not your bosses, but this proves how dependent you’ve been to us. Without a drop of penny from us, it seems like Boxmore got weak on its knees. And also, I would like to inform you that this establishment was ours since we worked alongside, if you haven’t read one of our contracts,”

             “What?”

             “That is why we’re kicking you out. Feel free to check out the boxes to see if your things got mixed up.” She finished up the rest of her drink and threw it to a nearby trash bin. She said, one last time, “You almost caught up, but only 'almost'. Good luck finding yourself another investor.” Everyone cleared out, including Cosma. Soon, the office was made up of nothing but a man with a picture of his family.

             It all happened too fast. Too fast to even deny anything. To think he woke up to _this_. What a horrible way to start a Friday.

             Though a very unfortunate event this is, he didn’t feel anything. Anything at all, be it anger, frustration, sadness, denial—name as many that he didn’t felt. There was no ache; the feeling was akin to a sudden death: one strike and go. He was left so speechless that he didn’t see the wrong things that happened this day. Yet.

             On the doorway, a top-hat lad peeked in and reluctantly entered. “Uhm-uh...Father?” No response, he sweats. “Father, I think we should...head back home.” He held the picture, circling his thumb over the pane before standing up in such sullen way Ernesto never seen before. He cleared his throat, straightened his shirt and muttered a quiet, “Let’s go.” and headed towards the parking lot.

             Just when they left the parking lot, in such a convenient timing, the clouds became merciless and gunned them down with thick droplets of rain. He groaned. Did it really have to rain now?

             A flash from the skies, the sound of breaking thunder followed late.

             The trio hurried chaining their bikes to a pipe. They ran to Rad’s porch and relieved a sigh. They got a bit wet, but their jackets helped. They removed them and wore their bought masks; Raymond and Shannon did a bit of a makeup retouch. Stupid rain, it just had to ruin it.


	20. Friday: Pre-Prom Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Under the same storm, the other brighter side of Boxman's loss of business comes the teens' pre-prom party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think y'all deserve two chapters before Monday repeats the cycle again.

          The trio were initially preparing before they completely make their reveal. Meanwhile, inside Rad’s house, a crowd of Lakewood teens bustled about and gossiped away. The house was fairly small, but it held the amount of people just right enough that they could walk around properly. It was a bit unfortunate some couldn’t come: those who weren’t allowed to and those who chose to reject the invitation. But either way, they were having fun with or without them. Rad supplied enough food and drinks, and stacked extras just in case.

          And of course, what’s a party without music, right? The DJ of the pre-prom is yours rightfully, deadpan Enid. She wasn’t for fancy dresses or clothes; she rocked a white blouse with a black-and-blue-striped necktie, black shorts along with a panty hose and grape heel boots, and a midnight-blue jacket too big for her size. The size was intentional for fashion.

          The choice of music was chill electro beats, for now. So far the music, drinks and food were great, but still the party spirit isn’t present. It almost looks like an informal school club meeting because they were just drinking and sitting and chatting around. Nothing is to worry about, this is just the start afterall. Besides, the real party hasn’t started yet, they were still missing some guests. Many among the missing were the important keys, like Rex, the cool kids--being Drupe, Red Action and Gregg; and possibly the _trio._

          Well to Rad, they really seemed like they’re chill guys underneath their bratty and bully attitudes. They’re like those really sour candies but the more you dissolve it away to the center, it gets really sweet. It would be a lie if he said that he didn’t admire the Boxman trio. He just...didn’t like to admit it out loud. Nobody liked the trio anyway, they’re obnoxious. So why should he?

          The music lowered a volume, the guests dropped dead silent as the door creaked open.

          Speak of the devil.

          Three infamous teens stood there at the doorway, in all glamour and dazzle, letting the others sink their eyes on beauty.

          Darrell wore a mahogany blazer with a vermilion vest and white polo underneath, a simple ribbon necktie was tied around the collar, and black slacks and red boots come in partners. Gone was his red ushanka hat; his curly ginger hair was brushed back, though a few curl strands managed to stray. The one in the middle, Shannon, showed off her high-waist pencil skirt and laced bustier she bought from the clothes store, now with nude stockings; and she rocked her navy blue heel pumps. Her makeup was basic yet enough, she wore gold drop earrings with blue teardrop-shaped design encased in gold, and her hair was surprisingly the usual, but the long bangs were now clipped aside by blue hair clips.

          And the last: Raymond. Of course, Raymond would be the star of the three. He sported an ivory formal coat with a red flower corsage pinned on his left chest, a white polo, a black vest and bowtie under; and a mint green cummerbund transitioning the upper half to his fitted black slacks (but loose by the shanks) down to his black-white-green multicolor tap shoes. His hair was glossier and never have been brushed upward than ever before; it looked so soft, Rad wondered deeper than he ever did on what he uses to style his hair like that. His usually worn headphones were removed to complete the entirety, and now was replaced by silver earrings. Rad never noticed that he had big ears.

          They, with masquerade masks, stood out amongst all guests--hell, even the host himself! The others were dumbfounded, as if they were struck by lightning and graced by deities. And the trio smirked, letting their eyes bawl out. Enid sure was the first to snap out of it.

          “Rad! You invited these nerds?!” she pointed her hand at them to make her point. How unbelievable coming from Radicles. Rad stammered, but composed himself, “W-wha--Is it--Is it so bad to invite nerds just this once?”

          She facepalmed. Ugh. “You idiot! They’ll ruin the party. You know how these guys can be.” Well technically, she _was_  right. They didn’t receive the title of “The School Bullies” for nothing. But he did this for a reason. “I know, I know, calm down. It was for a reason. Plus, I think they really need some venting, y’know, a cool off.”

          “Well that reason have to be good or else. And of course everyone needs a vent-out, Rad, we’re all tired. I just don’t want us to be their outlet.”

          “Trust me, they won’t do anything. I’ve talk to Sports over there days ago, he didn’t seem like he was scheming anything bad. He did say he was looking for a cool off.” he assured, but she wasn’t fully convinced.

          “So you’re saying he sweet-talked the crap out of you and you believed it? Pretty great actor, if you ask me.” Enid crossed her arms. Rad took it as an offense. “It wasn’t sweet--whatever! My point is, it was sincere. Sincere, Enid, you wouldn’t know because you weren’t there.”

          Enid rolled her eyes, and started mimicking Raymond poorly and exaggerated, “Oh! Radicles, my star, I don’t think I can hold on to the stress I’m all under!” she posed her hand dainty to her forehead and swooned; with a deadpan voice, ”This party of yours sounds perfect for my very destructive and egoistic behavior to destroy. Yada, yada.”

          Rad rolled his eyes. She sighed, “Ugh. Well now that they’re here, there’s nothing we can do. Just know what you’re doing, Rad.”

          “I got this.” he was sure of it. Rad turned on a mic, tapping it for a test, and cleared his throat, “My humble guests, may I have your attention please?”

          The crowd tore off their gazes at the trio--who too gave their attention to Rad’s. When he was sure he had everyone’s attention, he continued on with sincerity, “Not all of us are here, but I am glad the majority came. You are all free to be your wildest here, go top-notch, but one rule! Don’t. Break. My. Stuff. Especially you, Meg, Beef,” At the mention of names, the two--Meg FB and Bell Beefer-- shouted from the back and gave thumbs up.

          Rad continued, “I’ll have you know that this pre-prom party is for us and us only, so we need not fear,” He then raised his drink,

          “So raise your drinks up and LET’S PARTEEEY!”

          The crowd was pleased and preached his word by raving off in his living room, as Enid scratched a new vinyl and activated the rave lights. The storm outside joined along the party, contributing its rumbling thunders and lightnings and its mad showering. Once satisfied, Rad stood off the small platform and made way through the dancing crowd. It was as if he was fighting the stormy waves of the sea in the middle of a typhoon.

          The trio approached Rad themselves, or to be more accurate, Raymond did and the two followed. He said, “Radicles! So this is the party you spoke of.” Rad scratched the back of his head, just _now_ feeling embarrassed about it. These teens were rich kids! Their father owned a big company and was as greatly known as Lakewood Plaza Turbo. And now they’re here in his small house where corners have unknown water leaks and the walls have cracks. What was he thinking? There were many opportunities to test his genuity.

          “A-a-haha ha this is it alright.” Even when he had cleaned the whole house from first to second floor, from bedroom to living room, before the party; his home never failed to look messy, as if it was by default. The trio didn’t grimace as he long thought. Instead, they made approving hums and small-formed smiles.

          Rad gulped.

          “Blasting music,” Shannon nodded.

          “Mad dance floor!” Darrell peeked at the dancing crowd.

          “Lot of good companies,” Raymond scanned the guests.

          The trio grinned excitedly. And it looks so...real. So human. This was something Enid would never see. “Rad! Your invitation is not without thousand gratitudes from us.”

          Darrell lifted their bags with bought foods and rented movies inside, “And we’ve also brought goods for the after-party!”

          “Oh that’s great! But please keep your voice down a bit about the after-party, it’s a secret.” Rad informed, and Darrell mouthed an ‘oh’ and zipped his lips after. He beckoned them to follow him in the kitchen to store the goods the trio bought, and for them to get their soda drinks.

          Rad excused himself to attend to some party managing; while the trio chilled out on the sofa, which cleared of people who once sat there before they occupied it, and observed the party and its children. It was some time passed, so the others from the dance floor took a break; chatting away with their squads and friends with red cups on their hands to recharge. Those who were left on the floor still hadn’t run out of their party juice; they are, as you would classify, party animals. Enid toned the music as the dance floor cleared out.

          “So Darrell, what do you think? This is your first social party, aren’t you excited?” Shannon asked gleefully. He answered in all honesty, “I-I think it looks great! It’s a bit too loud, but my heart beats to the music. It’s crazy!”

          Raymond smiled, “How so? Crazy like you want to... thrash around and dance?” Enid’s ears caught the word thrash and shot eyes their way, alerted. Shannon caught the sly invitation, and played along, “Crazy like you want to be your crazy self?”

          Darrell tapped his foot to the subtle background beats of the music, he can’t help it. There was a shy side in Darrell, as one would not expect, but that is tossed aside whenever he’s with his siblings. He grinned toothily, “Crazy enough that I want to do both!”

          With that said, Raymond approached Enid and clicked a finger, “Yo, Deej, give us an 80’s we can dance to, will you?”

          Enid shrugged her shoulders and went through her vinyls of different genres and remixes, and never stopped until she had found one. With a swift transition, the guests turned heads back to the dance floor, finding the sudden change strange. The beats starts, alone at first, then joined the bass in which they tapped their foots to. Then came the synth and the guitar, which swayed their heads to.

          The trio, without a care whether they’re judged or not, stole the vacant dance floor as if it was theirs in the first place. Raymond was a dancer, while the other two not so much. But that didn’t stop them from swaying their hips and according their feet to the beat. They danced freestyle, without choreography, and yet, the way they take the floor--their body motion--it was pleasing to eyes.

          Darrell felt a little uncomfortable, though--undeniably--for the other guests were watching them. The three of them alone on the floor. But then Shannon held his wrists and made him face her. It wasn’t until a bit late that he realized his sister challenged her to a dance-off. And all the worries about others faded and converted to focus. They were in the world of a dance-off, the background disappeared and an opponent appeared. He can’t lose to that.

          The guests, including the host, DJ and Raymond, watched their little dance. They, the guests, hesitated getting in the floor too, urging the other to go first with telltale side glances. The music wasn’t unusual--it was accepted if anything, but it wasn’t everyone’s tastes. 80s? In bits of remix? Who listens to that? Although one thing’s for sure: most of them wants to dance to it.

          Enid made acceptable twists and subtle variations in the groove to put a little spice. Darrell took steps forward to Shannon, his arms carried by the flow and body making sharp sways to the beats and guitar bits; and ended his part by a taunting pose. Shannon, challenged, bounced back using her curvy hips as the music varied once more with a sick bass attacks; her body seemed to liquefy to the groovy tunes and yet stiffen and become as sharp as knife to every keen crooks on some parts of the music.

          Some in the crowd couldn’t help but release an disarray chorus of “ooo”s. They didn’t know how to dance, but they sure know how to get along with music. The cheer of the crowd officiated Shannon’s victory; Darrell gave up after that, but never stopped dancing with music.

          It didn’t take long for some to finally run to floors and dance with them. Seeing that they won’t be alone there, more joined them. Even Rad himself couldn’t help but join too. Enid experimented to see what clicks, a DJ effort others would not notice.

          Soon, the floor was filled but there was still space to move around, unimaginably. Those small space cracks on the floor was the one that bumped two fated dancers on their backs. Upon realizing who bumped them, Raymond stared at his eyes with such engagement. Like he was challenging _him._ Rad gulped and thought briefly as the time of his world slowed. Then he had come to conclusion.

 


	21. Friday: Dance Off

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The dance off was based on the ep Plaza Prom, but I cut out some and added stuff. I don't know anything about dancing and writing it, so sorry if it's confusing to read XD

             Rad returned the stare with a ‘challenge-accepted’ eyes. Hey, it was a party, who was he to deny a fun time? The teens who surrounded them had felt it too, and distanced themselves for the two to have space. The purple-haired DJ saw the commotion and got the message quick; she dropped the intensity, and readied for a build-up. She made way, slowly but surely, to genre change.

             Now they had a ring for a dance-off and music for build-up, and an awaiting crowd surrounding them. They stood there, watching; the tension was building itself as they warmed themselves up with the tunes slithering the pores of their body, making them tap their foots to it; and intoxicating them with adrenaline and energy. Enid sure knows how to do it right.

             Raymond, being Raymond, popped up a banter, “So Radicles, a dancer are you?”

             Rad smirked, confidence building, “Sure am. And this dancer is about to claim the floor!”

             “Not before the prince of panache takes the spotlight first!”

             Their banter became brief when the initiating beat kicked in. Raymond caught it first, giving him the advantage. He hooked his hand to nothing but air and pulled, his body coming along, into a swift spin like a trompo spun. One low leap in the air, then two feet landed. A feet stomped, causing crisp impact, then more lighter stomps came along with Spanish claps, moving him a bit forward. His arms dramatically swung down, making his chest pump out. Raymond lifted his chin, as high as he thinks of himself, with eyes piercing and lips licking.

             The crowd lifted into joyous clamor, and now, there are recording phones held up from somewhere at the back.

             To such, Rad was challenged. He moved along in short steps, dragging the other foot like a smooth and heavy silk, a pattern of slow--cut!--quick in its effect. He combined those with switching shoulder rolls, then punched his arm to the opposite side and the other arm topping it--now his arms crossed forward. Then one swift move, he elbowed backwards, lower part thrusting forward, meeting the air; and made sly forward rolls as if his lower half was a wave. In front of him, like a snake. Forward thrusts, how scandalous! It was a mock move, though, to mimic Raymond’s finishing move earlier.

             The crowd cheered once more, but now on Rad’s side. Music still going, Rad did a small spin (again, a mimic), then had his foot loose: moonwalking, foot slide and all. Raymond could not just stand there and let him do the do, so he took an opening almost close to being chest-to-chest with Rad, shoulders shimmying in parallel, unrehearsed.

             Such close distance wherein there is almost no gap, it can’t be avoided that some girls would nudge elbows with a knowing smile or shoot a ‘do-you-see-what-I-see’ look. Yeah, among them were Red Action and Drupe.

             The boys parted, and danced freely in their own styles. The audience’s eyes switch from one to the other; whoever entertained their eyes, they stay to. The coming out of victor is apparently Rad, but that is what Raymond cannot accept. How dare he! It’s insulting to him, who had practiced and mastered his dancing style for over many years.

             An unexpected move made the audience’s attention shift to the neglected competitor. Raymond built momentum before successfully gliding on knees on the _carpeted_ floor. There was friction, but he paid no mind to it. With great force, he sprung up on the _tip_ of his _ _toes--__ knees bent, back leaned--and managed to balance himself for a good few to roll his hips. Smooth and hypnotizing; slow enough to be so...inviting.

             Raymond knew he succeeded in his counter when he stared at Rad’s dumb-founded face. _‘Jaw-dropping, isn’t it?’_  He smirked smugly, snapping Rad out of trance. They closed up, fingers interlocked and eyes too. Two eyes burning in fire of combat.

             Both knew what the other thought, like minds psychics; they then mocked a few ballroom steps--banter not in words but actions--when Raymond leaned forward and bent Rad’s back with his hand supporting, although not for long. Before he could do anything, Rad forcefully shoved him off, making him almost losing his balance.

             Oh, so he’s going to play that, huh?

             “Very well!” he said to himself. Raymond lunged forward with a very dangerous upward kick, which Rad evaded nearly failing so. With the same leg, he twisted and crouched--in a target for Rad’s ankles--and swept it horizontally, as if his leg were a scythe cutting grass. Rad jumped backwards, avoiding the attack.

             He was confused by the odd moves--they were more for combat than dancing. But no one had noticed but him, for Raymond had done it with such grace and mixed it with actual dance moves, making those offensive moves subdue into the unknown art of dance. What kind of style was that? He didn’t even know he kick that high or could overthrow a person as big as Rad down the ground (he almost was, but he caught himself before the ground) Rad had decided. He had skills close to combat moves from all work-out, dancing and PE class, why the hell would he not use it now when Raymond does?

             While Raymond laced his attacks with dance moves--hands flying for an opening wherein he could grab him--Rad dodged swiftly at every. Dodgeball. To his fists, he would catch them with net-like open palms. Baseball. When Raymond next targeted his ankles, using his pointed shoe, they looked as if they tap danced to the floor! Learned foot work from soccer. The crowd was unknowing, that the dance-off turned to an actual battle. Maybe except a few, like Enid, Shannon , Darrell and Red Action. But neither among them interfered, intrigued on where they would take this.

             Rad had evaded and played defense, until he finally switched roles when Raymond made a mistake in letting an opening free. He grabbed Raymond’s right shoulder with his right hand, and the left for the left. It was a moment when they meet eye-to-eye, both telling without words.

             Rad had checkmate and Raymond messed up.

             With that, he spun him off with a force Raymond undeniably lost balance to. Raymond fell on his bum, and Rad finished the battle with a mimicked spin and slide on the floor: his hand and head raised up, and his other hand on the crotch as the final pose.

             Of victory.

             The audience roared in all merriment and praised the victor: Radicles. The feeling of loss was like being blasted off to the sky until he was nothing but a dot. He never had a lost match in a long time. Until now.

             Though there was a bitter taste, he wasn’t all over it as he thought he’d be. He was quite surprised when he brushed the dust off his suit without a scornful thought implanting in his mind. There was no brewing ill plans for revenge, just...shock. Speechless.

             Impressed.

             Shannon and Darrell ran to him, worried all over. They checked for bruises or any sign of a scrape and was relieved to find none. That wasn’t the only thing they were worried about though. They knew how their younger brother takes on loss, they even experienced it first-hand. Raymond smiled a genuine one, to convey a good message: he was fine.

             The party continued on, so did the trio. Enid’s fear of them taking revenge or ruining the party subdued when she saw the trio laughing and chatting lively with each other. Harmless. Maybe that was the kind Rad saw when he talked to that pompadork.

             And speaking of Rad, he received lots of praises and questions like “Rad! I didn’t know you could dance!” and a “Why didn’t you tell us you could?” And all of it honestly drained his energy. So he went to the kitchen for a cold drink, where Raymond coincidentally was on the counter with a drink on his hand too. They met gazes, two eyes burning of embarrassment, and humidifying the awkwardness in the air. The kitchen was empty of people but them, as of this minute.

             Rad was the first to start, “U-um--Great dancing out there. You know, you weren’t joking when you said you were a dancer.” He cracked the can open, soda fizzing out.

             Raymond chuckled, “I’m no jester in words, Rad,” He drank from his styro cup, stirring slightly after, “So believe me when I say you were fantastic there.”

             Rad blushed at the compliment, and tried to hide it by drinking from his can of soda. He was being nice to him again. Usually he’d belittle his foes after battle: whether they won or lost (more frequent is lost). Is it really...Did he..

             “Y-you mean it?”

             A simple short question which is answered by either yes or no. But it seemed harder than it is, it was to be told in truth. And Raymond is no liar. He never liked lies and those who spoke its language. But after all this? So far in the party? He was great. He was having a great time. Enough that he felt loose tongue and a loose vice.

             Raymond formed a faint smile, “Yeah. My skills were parred and you proved it when you defeated me.” He wasn’t wrong, but...

             “I’ll have you know that it wasn’t anything _too_ serious, y’know, j-just for fun--” He was afraid, he’ll admit to himself. Afraid that this victory would come back to bite him later. Raymond knew Rad too had that fear. Like anybody else.

             “Oh but it was serious,” Raymond shot a cold eye which Rad was impaled to, “-seriously fun, haha.” But then it was dismissed quick by a playful chortle. Wait what, he never does that.

             “Anyway, don’t sweat it, Rad. I’m having a great time of my life to be bitter. Good vibes.”

             A great time..? Rad cared less whether it was a lie or not anymore. He shouldn’t be too worried about pleasing the trio--or anyone for that matter--when all they were was human, like him. Teens looking for a cool off, like him. They weren’t too different.

             Rad’s racing heart--from the careful talk with a school star, mind you--beat back to its regular pace once he became comfortable around him. The beats of the music matched to the regular beats of their hearts. It was as if it was knocking on them, on their hearts gently.

 

             A cry, a beg to let them in.

 

             More loud knocks batter on the door. His hand quivered from the cold. A lightning struck once more at the dark sky, the rain still relentless.

             There were still no answers.

             It can’t be no one’s home. No. This was their last chance, otherwise, they would have nowhere else to go. He didn’t give up, and knocked some more. His brother spoke, through gritted teeth and self-embraced arms, “I-I think w-we s-s-should go back, s-s-stay in…We can try a-again later”.

             But he didn’t listen. Sure as hell not going give up now and return back to that  _stinking_ place. He can’t. Too tired. Tired, of running over there and here and getting--nothing!

             “No! This h-has to be i-it. All or nothing, buck.”

             And his prayers were answered. The door swung open before he could land another knock--and there revealed a golden haired woman with a strange red prosthetic eye. She was notably short, but a few inches taller than them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so so sorry I haven't updated in FOREVER. School was eating up my time, and my laziness often prevents me from writing :^( (and drawing too actually) Again, I'm sorry for the hang, I'll try to update more :3


	22. Friday: Surprising Entrances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who are these mysterious teens that showed up at Boxmans' door? Whatever happened to Venomous and his daughter?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Class suspension, so I've got time :^D

             Sara was surprised to see two shivering and bruised teens at the door in the middle of the storm. She, like any other out there, did not expect guests--and _injured_  guests, at that. This was something you wouldn’t see every Friday.

             Out of pity, she let them in quick, not minding the water on their clothes and bodies dripping off on the floor and carpet. Right now, health is priority first.

             Teagan and Jethro came up to Sara and was confused by the sight of two strangers following after her. Sara dismissed the confusion, “Jethro, go get Mikayla now. Teagan, get dry towels.” The boys followed her commands, while she led the two injured teens to the kitchen for seats. Sara got ice packs from the fridge and left it on the table to get their first aid kit.

             Meanwhile, the two teens were surprised by the course of events. First, they were accepted in, then their injuries were getting treated. An act of kindness and hospitality, one they haven’t received from anyone in _years _.__

             A lemon haired teen came down the stairs with the small kid--Jethro?--and his, presumably, twin Teagan followed behind with dry towels in his small arms. Sara came in too, with first aid. She handed them the ice pack, hesitantly taken by the teal-haired one. He pressed it to his swollen eye.

             “W-what is going on here?” Mikayla asked, slightly afraid. Teagan gave them the towels, and they used them to dry up. Sara ordered, “Mikayla, can you get shirts from the hamper? The one with old clothes.” Mikayla just nodded and scurried up the stairs. Sara forgot and yelled, “And get Darrell’s size!”

             Sara tended the evident wounds on the plain, and did what she could do. She asked a question, “What happened to you two?” Then Mikayla hurried over her side with the shirts: Darrell’s oiled undershirt and a small torn-off knit sweater Ernesto made. “It’s the best she could find.” Sara muttered thanks, and handed the topwear. “Go change shirts, you’ll get cold with those. Don’t worry, they’re clean.”

             With that, they left the kitchen for a moment, giving privacy for the quick change. But then the moment they got out of the kitchen, “Who’s that, sis?” from Jethro. “What’s going on?” from Mikayla. And a questioning look from Teagan. All of those in which she answered with an honest answer, “I don’t know! They showed up at the porch with those wounds, and there a storm outside--I can’t ignore them!”

             They all were in the dark together, along with the two strangers they took in. The two in the kitchen changed quick, fearing the siblings would walk in and see those unattended god-awful black bruises and lacerated skin. They caused enough perturbation to worry them with more. They could handle the rest, it was already shameful of them to even be let in their home.

             Though hushed, the two heard the family talking from the other wall. Curious, they leaned on the wall, the ginger one pressing his ear to it, just beside the archway.

             “--this is temporary, don’t worry. When the storm passes and the wounds are treated enough, they can be on their way.” the bob haired, Sara.

             “She feels uneasy with strangers at home. But...it’s okay, she supposes.”

             “W-What about Dad? Daddy won’t like this...”

             “He won’t.”

             “I’m scared...”

             “I know, lil bud. We’ll house them in the basement for a while. When the storm passes, we can probably hand them over to the health center.”

             A pressed ear backed away from the wall.

             Then he rapidly knocked down the locked door. Frantically, he twisted the doorknob over and over, but proved a futile attempt.

             “FInk! Fink! Let me in this second!” he groaned. His daughter. His rogue, mischief-maker of a daughter. He pinched the bridge of his nose.

             He should’ve taken care of this when he had the chance earlier.

             Now? His daughter is nowhere to be found, a storm is raging outside, and her room is locked--she’s probably not even there for hell he knows! What if she’s out there in the middle of the storm? What if she gets sick or worse, get into an accident?!

             This is useless. He had to go outside to find her, storm or not.

             The problem is..."Where do I start?” Still, he grabbed a black raincoat, Fink’s green coat (for all he knows, she probably didn’t bring anything to protect herself from rain), and wore galoshes. He asked himself, __‘_ If I were a young impulsive daughter with unpredictable tendencies, where would I go? What would I do?’_

             Then he thought of Fink: of the places she loved to go to, of her “friends”, of the things she would want to do so much that she wouldn’t mind getting in the storm. But there were many things wrong; if she did want something or to go somewhere, she would say it straightforward and that’s not what she did base on her behavior earlier: she was implying, and that means a motive underneath. Second, she may be reckless, but not too reckless to disobey her father _and_  let herself get sick: she hated getting sick. And lastly, she didn’t have any friends to go out with.

             But in contrast, she had many rivals. She had enemies. That’s it! Maybe she’s getting herself in a fight. But why would this one be so important as to do both: disobey him and let sickness get to her.

             “That doesn’t matter now.” Right now, he knows where she might be. He drove his car to the Plaza. The back of the Plaza was known for many things, and one being a power battle area. She was probably challenged by some kid who got into her head.

             He arrived and parked, and wasted not a second to run to the back. What he had suspected was right: Fink got herself in a fight at the back of the Plaza.

             The storm raged some more: lightnings struck every now and then, the rain showed no sign of stopping, and the wind gusting through the trees and the hems of their clothes and strands of hair. The striped shirt kid delivered a punch supposed to land on her face, but on the wind instead as Fink had ducked and countered with punch on the gut. He faltered steps backward, trying to regain balance through the pain but the howling wind overthrew him.

             He fell on his bum, and an arm clenching on his stomach. His gang from the background rushed to him, forgetting their leader’s order to stay out.

             “H-Hey bud! I think we should just leave this one!”

             “You’re bleeding bad!”

             “Let’s just finish this off some other day, it’s storming out here--!”

             His vision was getting dizzy, but he found the energy to speak, “No! This is--this is a p-power battle--Don’t get in the way!”

             “Get up, you coward!” Fink yelled as she walked closer. The gang members tried to block her way, although they failed. She was much stronger than they had originally thought her to be. The striped shirt kid tried getting up, hand supporting his weight, but Fink kicked him in the gut, doubling the pain.

             She seethed, eyes sharp as knives, “What do you have to say about father?”

             For a split second, he let his guard down and fear showed itself through his eyes.

             Venomous could not describe the feelings that was mixing itself, but he didn’t let it get to him at this moment. He had to get them out of here, first of first. Without calling her, he approached on forward, the daughter unknowing of his presence. The kid on the ground shifted his eyes to the stranger in black behind her. In the rain, it was too blurry to clear the image of the person. All the kid could see was his black hooded coat and his shadowed eyes.

             He...He looks like someone, the description of a rumored stranger; could it be him?

             Fink noticed those horrified eyes weren’t on hers anymore, but behind her. She turned around, and stilled in her place once she recognized. __‘_ Crap! I must’ve taken too long!’_

             “Fink, we’re going home.” he said, suppressed from within. He locked her in a vice grip on the wrist, and dragged her away. She was in no position whatsoever to object. Then he had almost forgotten, “You kids go home. Now.”

             The Lizard Gang were dreaded at the sight of the stranger. He could be the rumored Shadowy Figure of the Shadow Snakes, but why is Fink... No, that must be her father, Professor Venomous--but he looked so much like Shadowy Figure. Or are they the same person? What is going on?

             Even their leader, if he admits, was frightened too. They just nodded, and helped carry their leader under a roof they can stay on until the storm tones down.

             They got in the car, both wet from the rain but wet car seats wasn’t his concern now. Fink wore her raincoat, knowing they were meant for her. It was very silent, the ride back home. Fink was too afraid to say anything, and Venomous was keeping all words within before he could drop them at home. Scolding her in the car wasn’t proper, and he might lose focus on the road.

 

             The moment they entered the door, Venomous exhaled his long-held breath and with a stern fatherly voice, “Fink, what were you doing out there?” Fink had her head down: she couldn’t face her father like this, it was shameful. But before she could even speak, he said, “No, you know what? I actually know. I think my question is: _why _,__ ”

             He was only beginning to grow mad, she had to speak up, “L-Look Boss, it was a __power__  battle. I can’t just walk away from it—“

             “Yes! You can! But you just chose not to because you _love_  to brawl. Do you even see the storm outside?!” With that spoken, a thunder rumbled and no second after, he rattled on, “And I told you this “ _power battle _”__ has. to. stop. It’s just a bunch of kids’ rule made up to spice up fighting—Fighting! Sweetie, do you hear me?”

             She knew she can’t speak up, she can’t. She never could.

             “We don’t _have_ to follow it, Fink, we’re not from here. We’re not Lakewood Turbians,”

             “I know,” she muttered, head down.

             “And I’m sure you know too that we have to keep low profiles,”

             “I know.”

             “And yet, you’ve made something big here: a consequence.”

             She zipped her lip tight, as she had no more to say. No more excuses or explanations she knew wouldn’t convince her father. Now all she had to do now is to sit and listen and let this through. But that wasn’t an easy task.

             Venomous exhaled, and bent down on her level. With two hands gently placed on her shoulders, he worried, “Look at you,” he lifted her chin and tilted her head, seeing her fresh ugly bruises and scarred lip, “It’s not a honorable sight for anyone, and mostly to a parent.” She shook her head away from his hand.

             “Fink, sweetie, look at me,” she reluctantly did so, because either way, he’d make her. Like he always do. There was worry in his eyes, and it was honest. “You know where this would lead, right? If those bullies call up their parents, and we face up, I don’t think it would end well with us. Moreover, we might get an image worse than what we have now.”

             “We need a clear image and a low profile, I know.”

             “And understand, Fink. You have to know and understand what’s at stake here.”

             “Our second chance at peaceful lives. I won’t cause any more trouble, Boss, I promise.” she swore in a rather somber tone. He hated hearing and seeing her like this. “Good. And I told you stop calling me boss, didn’t I? You don’t have to call me that anymore.”

             It was a habit hard to let go off, but for him, for her father, “O-okay...Dad.” And there she smiled faintly, although hesitant. He smiled too, to make it hesitant no longer.

             And like that, she was forgiven, and his worry and anger emptied. He patted her head, “Now, let’s tend those bruises.” He headed to the bathroom to get first aid kit.

             And he swung the door open.

             Ernesto and Boxman turned their heads over the Café entrance. It was just another customer, two in fact. One was a big guy with dark complexion and had an apron worn, who held the door open for the other, who wore a green jacket and...

             He knows who that is. And so did Boxman. But neither spoke of him.


	23. Friday: A Cafe Scene and a Movie Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A chapter where Boxman and Ernesto are very deprest, Ray/Rad makes corny puns, and Shannon proposes a theory.

          That person was interpreted in two different ways, but to both he is to be wary of. As he entered, the big guy closed his umbrella and they got up to the counter. There was no line, so they were served right away. Well, who would be in café in the middle of a storm anyway? Apparently them and these partners.

          Ernesto and Boxman had decided to let the rain subside for a moment; it was dangerous to drive through this storm. The road was clouded by thick rain mist and it was slippery, and the wind outside looked like it could drag away a roof. So they had stopped to the Plaza and got themselves black coffees.

          To add their situation, it was a bad day. A _really_  bad day to drive, storm or not. They just lost their jobs, and Boxman was still in the state of shock. So they sat there in silence, letting the news sink in slowly.

          There in the café where four customers sat--one pair under the veil of misery and the other in a high of joy—they had eased themselves with coffee and delights. And talking too brought ease, but not for the father and son pair. They couldn’t talk at the moment, they both lost an important thing but it hit them the different way. For Boxman, it was the family’s wealth and future. The whole Boxmore business kept them on track, away from poverty and hardship each of his children had experienced in the past. And now, it may come back to bite them if doesn’t do anything. He didn’t want that for either himself or any of his children. But...are those really the only reasons why he grieves so much for this loss? Why did he feel like there was more to this grief than he thinks?

          For Ernesto, it was for a different reason. His job was...some kind of drug. It was odd to hear himself say it, but there was no other word for it. It was addicting, and he would always come back for more. He never hesitates—never backs out—to double tasks and extra errands. Some nights, he couldn’t even sleep at the thought of doing nothing. Sometimes, he would hear a keyboard typing when he’s out the office or the house. Then he would itch. His hands would itch for a pen and a paper to write something that achieves nothing. And he can’t help but feed it.

          Now, what meant to them doesn’t mean anything now that Boxmore’s gone.

          Ernesto could feel the upcoming threat of that itch that is thankfully not taking effect yet. He still couldn’t explain why he had this urge, and he couldn’t stop either, even when his headaches get him and hunger passes. And Boxman was starting to feel the dread of the future crawling on his skin. It was almost time that he gets out of the shock state.

          Ernesto drifted his mind to something else, something effectively distracting. He looked around the cafe devoid of any life but the employee Barista and the two pair across their table. He’s got bad opinions on the two, and none on the employee. So instead, he shifted his gaze to the window beside them.

          Watching the rain and its drops always calmed him. There was something about those rapid pitter patter sounds and the way it looks upon hitting the ground like harmless bullets. And another interesting thing was when the drops on the window panes raced each other down. Soon when one comes as a victor, it will realize that it just joined a puddle of water that always had been there. It would be nice—it always was—to hear that he had a day with coffee in a rainy weather, if the said day wasn’t the day they lost their jobs and if the rain was just rain, not a roaring storm.

          It would’ve been nice. But it was wrong. Like a once happy song twisted into a sad motif variation. It’s like the repeated part but now dreary, contrary to the prior.

          Now it just doesn’t feel the same.

          Still, he watched the rain outside. It was as if he was watching a movie; the colors were filtered grey and dim, the rain poured and the thunder rumbles, and in the background, two people were talking. So lively and happy that it almost doesn’t fit the whole image.

          “Oh, so these two are your brothers but they are your brother’s brothers? Am I correct?” _that guy _.__

          “Heh yeah that’s right. A bit confusing, but eh that’s what you get for being born in a big family.” the other spoke with a thick foreign accent.

          “Oh, no, it is not confusing at all. Your family history sounds intriguing—“

          “They’re crazy, by the way. Don’t you ever meet ‘em.”

          The trio scooted close to each other as they shared the popcorn together. The party was finally over and now, they’re watching a movie for the after-party. The movie was Darrell’s pick, it was titled “The Robot and the Other from a Far Country”. It had a very promising cover, but it turned out to be another slow build indie-like movie that they weren’t looking for right now.

          “Who picked this lame movie? Five minutes and I’m already itching. I thought we _agreed_ to go for action movies first, not _drama_ ,” Red Action finally let out the word. Everyone nodded along, even Darrell who picked it.

          Upon hearing the agreements, she said, “NEXT!” And another tape was in. But it seemed like the wrong one was put in, because this was a Steve Kingsley, as displayed across the screen. And that guy was dubbed as “Father of Horror Genre”.

          “Wait, why are we going horror?” Drupe asked, showing a tidbit of interest. “Who cares?! You guys! This is a horror classic! Better put your seatbelts on!” Shannon got giddy. This was her favorite, although a shame not many knows this one.

          The seven teens in the room objected no more, and so did Red Action who fought for actions in decision-making earlier. These seven would be named as Drupe, Red Action, Enid, Darrell, Shannon, Raymond and Rad. Gregg couldn’t come sadly, their parents strongly refused to let them. Supposedly, Bell and Mega were to stay over for the after-party, but Enid refused and with all her might, she succeeded in keeping them out of Rad’s list. She knows who and who aren’t obnoxious enough to destroy the party. Though unfortunately for her, she wasn’t able to keep the Boxman trio out because she didn’t see it coming.

          But so far, she would say they ‘behaved’. Maybe they actually _did_ mean it this time. Everyone scooted comfortably on their positions. Starting from left: Enid and Red was on the couch, Drupe was on the armrest (the couch had some space, but she thought it was cooler to sit on the armrest), down her was Darrell, and to his right was Shannon, and to her right was Raymond and lastly Rad.

          The movie just started, so they were just in the build-up and introduction; and as you may know, not many pay attention to it. And the teens were no different, except Darrell was watching but could not understand clear what was happening, Enid tried paying attention but Red distracted her with flirt attempts, Drupe tried to watch but her phone tweets were just too damn funny to ignore, and Shannon was the only one who was _actually_ paying full attention.

          Rad and Raymond, well, they were starting to build their own world by propping up a small talk. “So what movie genre do you watch?” Raymond asked. Rad replied, “Well, action duh. I love me getting some action-packed craze and battle fights—“ The sports star shot him an unimpressed look. He probably knew already that it was a lie to impress, so he slid out some truth, “—a-eh-well uhm...with—sprinkled with a little drama hah.”

          He scratched the back of his head, and returned the question quick before embarrassment seeps in, “What about you?” He smiled at that and replied, “Well~ If you must ask, I do like drama and romance mostly,” As one would expect with this grand flamboyant of a guy, “But I do love comedy as well.”

          They were the same! Rad gasped and could not contain himself from asking, “Slapstick or Wordplay?”

          “Hmm...Satirical and yeah, wordplay. I love puns, good or bad.”

          “All puns are bad, man!”

          He giggled, “I suppose you’re right.”

          Rad couldn’t believe this, they both love comedy! And puns mostly. And speaking of, he just thought of one, “Psst, Ray, what do vegetarian zombies scream for?”

          Seeing the upcoming joke, he asked, “What?”

          “Graaaainss!” Rad imitated the zombies’ voice and action poorly. Raymond rolled his eyes, but still had a smile on his face. It’s his turn to joke.

          “How do you organize a space party?”

          “How?” Rad was trying to contain his giggles.

          “You _planet_.”

          They both giggled that soon turned into a hushed laughter. It was very audible though, but no one cared. So they continued on some more.

          “What do you call a cup that fell off?” Raymond caught it immediately though, “Hey wait I know that one! Give something I don’t know yet.”

          “I must say, you must have an impressive knowledge on puns.”

          “Well duh.”

          “You know what happened with the artist versus artist match?” Well, this one’s haven’t been heard yet. “What?”

          “It was a _draw _.__ ” Again, eye rolls. Raymond, with playfulness, “Oh come on, Rad, that was weak.” He agreed also. It was Raymond’s turn.

          “You know what you’d be if you were a fruit?”

          “A berry? Because I’m _berry juicy_?”

          “A _fine_ -apple.”

          Well this was going somewhere. Until Enid got irritated, “Will you two tone it down? Your jokes are painful and it’s not helping!” Oh that’s right. They were watching a movie. A loud scream and jumpscare music came from the speaker. __‘_ A horror movie, at that.’ _Rad realized.

          He was about to make another pun just to annoy Enid, but Shannon interrupted, “Aw! You guys just missed the most iconic jumpscare of the history. Why are you all not—you know what? I don’t care.” With that, she gave up and plopped back into her position, eating popcorn. Her younger brother nudged her shoulder, “What’s...the plot again?”

          She groaned, but explained, “There’s this shady guy living off in the sewers and calls the children in to kidnap them, but a small spoiler, that guy is actually not human and it is some kind of ancient evil being.”

          “But why does he kidnap them?”

          “It’s said in the movie that it’s some kind of vengeful spirit that preys on the children because they were weaker, but I say there’s more to it.” Shannon faced him, forgetting the movie. She already knows what would happen though; this was a much more interesting question.

          “Other fans had been theorizing about it too, because there are still some gaps between the movie and the book. The book implies, but doesn’t really tell---so! The big known theory is that it uses the youth and lifespan of children in order to come back to life! Because there was this part in the book where—“

          “Okay, okay, that’s enough. I’m spoiled and I’m not getting anything.”

          Her whole theory and opinion that she was going to say was dunked to the trash bin as he said that. “Fine, whatever.” It’s not like he’s a big time fan anyway. She grabbed her soda drink and gulped down.

          Then, he set the glass down on the table.

          A glass of water was something he didn’t knew he needed. It’s been a long day. He hadn’t said a thing, nor did his children ask about the early homecoming of both. They probably suspected a bad day or just felt the density of his aura when he came home.

          “Hi Dad!” MIkayla hugged him from behind, smile on her face as usual. What innocence...”Hey darlin’...” he returned. It was a simple exchange that he hadn’t done with any of his children until now.


	24. Friday: Wine's in the Basement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boxman is in need of a drink. He remembers the old wines he put away in the basement, but the door is locked. And why are Sara and Mikayla acting so strange?

          Mikayla searched around the kitchen for a snack and a drink, all while her father sat there unknowing what to do next. Now that the glass is emptied, his throat was starting to itch. It was starting to look for something rough, strong, something burning. Something so overwhelming that it would succeed in its job by drowning him into momentary peace and sweep the sorrow under the rug for tonight.

          Well come to think of it, his stash up in the bedroom was already cleared out. There wasn’t any in the kitchen; he avoided it so that his children can too. Plus, he learned a lesson after an incident at some time. He went to the living room, to the corner. There was a hollow part there, and that he found by tapping and hearing. He lifted the cut portion, the lid of his secret stash. This was something he crafted, in cases of emergency.

          And apparently, he was an idiot enough to take from his emergency stash. Why? Because there was nothing there but dust and cork opener.

          He grumbled under his breath. Welp, there goes his chance. He must’ve used it and forgot to refill. The store was far, but can be reached by foot; but he didn’t really feel like spending money and going outside. Guess it’s going to be the good old-fashioned self-deprecation and loathing tonight. And the challenge? Without booze. He wanted to cry at the thought.

          Boxman retreated to the master’s bedroom. What else was he to do? He couldn’t even think straight to think of anything at all. He went straight for his bed without bothering taking off his tie, and socks.

          There he laid. Alone. In the dark. In silence, but it wasn’t peace.

          But then he remembered.

          “It’s not booze, but wine could work.” Those old untouched wine bottles down the basement had a long time before expiration date. They were good quality too, so maybe it’s still consumable.

          Boxman raced down the stairs, to the basement—but it was locked. “SARA?” he shouted, hoping that it reaches her room. Success, Sara walked out her door, “Yes, Dad?” He looked up to her, “Do you have the basement key? And why is it locked, by the way?”

          She went cold. A sweat broke from her temples as she rushed down the stairs, “I-I-I forgot where I put it—have you checked the living room? You know, the key holder? The ash tray?”

          Hmmm. She was fiddling her thumbs, and had that...smile. He eyed her closely, she all but winked an eye. How...

          “Strange,” she grinned wider, hands behind her back. “No, actually I didn’t check yet.”

          And the moment he disappeared off to the living room, Sara too disappeared quick into the basement. Mikayla almost choked on her milk drink, she got nervous as well as she understood the situation. With a click from the knob, their father returned to the kitchen.

          “Sara, the key’s not ther--” he cut off at the her absence. Looking around, Mikayla became the target of his question, “Where is she?” Apparently, the loud click of locking went unheard to him. She started acting strange too: eyes shifting side to side and muttering incoherent noises. Straight and clear, she answered, “She went upstairs. To look for the key.”

          She added, “M-Maybe you could l-look at the garden? Sara was there the morning and afternoon, maybe she dropped it somewhere...Mikayla will help you look--” He was already walking out to the garden, then she followed after. This will be fruitless, but it would buy time for Sara to get out of the basement. She had the key. Her father peeled his eyes open; it was dark, and they were looking for something as small as a key. He lifted his head, to look over the bushes--

          “You have to hide over these boxes,” Sara said as she arranged the boxes in the corner. Both of them were perplexed by sudden rushed entrance and her commotion. One moment they were contemplating on their lives with the rats, and then now she comes down running like a criminal trying to clean the crime scene.

          “W-What’s going on--”

          “Why?”

          She beckoned them in with a shaking hand, “My dad wants to go down here! We don’t want him finding out, I swear to you. Please just hide here!” Trusting her words and distressed look, they cramped themselves in the corner, and then Sara closed them in by adding up the boxes. Before she adds the last box to cover them, she muttered with sincerity, “I’m so sorry for this.”

          Then the last source of light and open ventilation they had was blocked. It was all black.

          There was nothing, no key, no hope--a useless search. He scratched his head, _‘What the hell am I doing?’_ Almost laughable, that he was _this_ desperate to get a drink. When he headed inside without a word, Mikayla ran ahead of him. Boxman was a bit surprised she ran in, but then, she was always unexpected.

          Just in time, they walked in on Sara, who held the key stuck in the keyhole. Both girls broke in cold sweat as his eyes slitted, moving from Mikayla to Sara to the key to the basement door. How---suspicious.

          Sara scrambled to form words, “O-oh uh uhm Da-Dad! I---found the key! Aha look! I was just...about to--op-open this door,” she grinned nervously, “The basement door...That is.”

          Though clearly something was up, he decided to ignore because he could care less about it now. He really needed a drink. “Well? Are you going to open it?” Snapping out of dumbfound thoughts, she immediately unlocked the door, almost dropping the key with those nervous clumsy hands in the process.

          He walked down the creaky stairs as she opened the door. He found it strange that the lights were already on when he entered. And what more, most of the boxes were not scattered about like he dumped them here on the day they moved to this house. The basement was nothing but an antique and old stuff storage. And wine storage, too. Nobody bothered to go down here, not even him, so cleaning down here was out of the question.

          He swiped his feet on the cement floor, __‘_ It looks like someone swept the floor, too.’_ When he found most of the boxes were in the corner, he asked Sara, who strangely was still at the doorway, “Hey Sara, did you clean down here?” He moved in closer to the corner.

          “W-Well yeah! I had nothing to do today! I also looked around our old stuff--”

          “But why now? And not some other day?”

          “U-uh well,” Sara loosens her turtleneck, gulping. Mikayla only stood still, heart beating like crazy, as her father eyes the boxes suspiciously.

          He disassembled the odd finely arranged boxes. Sara found an excuse, “There were no classes today and-” One by one he set them down and aside, "-I was cleaning around the house-" It was too late to finish excuses. Three pairs of eyes cross gazes.

 

          Time paused.

 

          And the rain paused too, but not entirely. It was still drizzling a few drops so light that they couldn’t hear them land. This was the perfect time to go home, since they couldn’t go earlier because of the rain. So the seven teens were cleaning up their messes and packing for their things.


	25. Friday: Twice a Proposal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was time to clean-up Rad's home (after the party thrashed it), but the owner of the said home is missing. Enid finds him with that birdface in the backyard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow it's the 22nd century and only now have I updated whow boye  
> I am going to post the last chapter next so that I can finish the story, and work on the second one. For later, when I have time lol. There's so much stuff going on, lots of school requirements, but here it is! :^D

          In the midst of preparation to leave, two were missing from the room, namely Rad and Raymond. While everyone were working their bums off, they’ve got a nerve to disappear and abandon post! As if Enid would let that. She looked around at the second floor, but found no one. Then she proceeded to the kitchen, when she heard from outside, at the backyard...

          A laugh.

          “—and I was like _'You think I’d let you?!’”_

          A hearty laugh.

          “And—aha!—I said ‘ _Get a taste of my_ feast!”

          “Oh my god Rad n-nohoho! That’s so corny!”

          “What? You laughed anyway!” Rad joined him.

          Ugh. Lovebirds. “Ew.” Enid decided to stay in the kitchen for a while. She can use this as a get-back for later, just in case. Either that, or she wants to be nosy just this once. She leaned on the counter, an ear leaning toward the sliding door of the backyard.

          The two were sitting on the steps of the backporch, giggling under the dark starless night sky, and surrounded by nothing but christmas lights adorned on the frame of sliding door and the wooden rails. The air is chilly, and the grasses of the backyard were growing tall, so to picture the scene. Fireflies were few, flying in circles and lying low; it looks as if they were the stars from the sky that fell from it and came to life.

          “Anyway, Rad, I...I really do think you were great at the dance floor earlier—I-Im just saying, in case you think I didn’t mean it,” Raymond stuttered. He _stuttered_.

          “O-oh! That was nothing! And I _did_ believe you the first time,” Rad brushed it off. And without meaning to, he finally let out under his breath, “Wow, you...you did kinda change...”

          It was quiet, but he heard clear. And that reminded Raymond of a mission he forgot. The mission he was suppose to carry throughout the party, it was one of the most important reason he accepted the invitation! He palmed his face internally.

          Rad noticed the sudden stillness of Raymond, and thought maybe it was something he said. So he changed topic, “ANYWAY! T-The finals are almost up!” Maybe changing the topic to school matters can drift them away from the upcoming total awkwardness. But it is true though, next week Thursday and Friday is final exams and last chance project deadlines.

          Raymond didn’t like the topic though, “You’re right. I haven’t done any reviewers yet, or my thesis!” What was he doing?! He had so many school responsibilities he hadn’t done yet, how could he abandon those? And just now does reality start seeping in.

          “Hey, relax. Both of us haven’t done anything yet. And I’m sure that those who attended the party didn’t too—“

          “Y-You wouldn’t get it! I have a schedule that I follow, and if I don’t follow that, I will be three steps behind! And I have to catch up with a lot of things  —“ Raymond sprung up from the back porch

          “Hey, hey, sit down, will you?”

          “—And my father! What if I get low scores at the test? What if I get a low grade because I didn’t do my project?! I don’t want to think what my father would think of it—“

          “We still have time! Relax! We have at least five days to do our projects.” Rad pulled him down to sit beside him, as they were a moment ago. So this must be stress of being a high-graded student, huh? “You have to breathe, geez!” and he did, slow breathings in and out.

          Rad offered, “Listen, how about we partner up with the thesis?” It __was__  partner-based, anyway. “B-but of course, that is if you don’t have a partne—“

          “You’d partner up with me?”

          A simple short question which is answered by either yes or no. It had an easy answer, it was the truth after all. And Rad can be a liar, but he knows on what is to be honest about.

          “Well,yeah. I mean, I have zero researching skills, but m-maybe I can—I can prove? That I can be as good as you...?”

          “I’ll also have you know that I’m bad at writing, that is…If you’d really do this project with me.”

          “…Well you know what Ms. Quantum says,”

          “What?”

          “A negative times negative equals to positive,” Rad really tried to lift spirits, even with the knowledge that they’re probably going to do bad at this project. Raymond lifted a brow, “Hmm...Shouldn’t it be negative _plus_  negative because we add up not multiply?”

          “But then that would still equal to negative. I’m trying to lift spirits here, in case we sulk about our bad skills.” Raymond giggled, “Then it’s working.”

          Enid contemplated whether to stay or not, because their conversation turned back to boring and nonsensical pun convo. After a few puns thrown, she was leaving but came to a halt when she heard...

          “Hey, after the exams and everything, the actual prom is gonna be up,” Oh? Enid leaned her ear once more. Rad continued, “And I was thinking, since the dance-off earlier had been so much fun—maybe we can do it again in the prom?”

          What a proposal. She smiled. This was interesting.

          “Rad! Are you proposing,” Raymond’s voice was playful, “That we go for another duel?”

          “Well yeah, what else am I askin’ for?”

          “How daring! I guess you’ve grown a pair after your victory against me.”

          “Soooo...Does that mean yes?”

          Raymond let out a laugh, but accepted the proposal, “I suppose, yes. We can surprise the unknowing folks on the dance floor—“

          “—And butt in with kickass dance moves!”

          “And of course, still countering at each other.”

          “Oh—Right! And I’m gonna win it again, just you see.”

          “I don’t think so, darling, not when I can still fight. And besides,” Rad raised a brow as he stood, “You haven’t seen me at my fullest yet.” So that was just a free taste?! He gulped.

          So another surprise dance-off? Better prepare some remixes, just in case. She won’t be the DJ at the actual prom, but she can pass it up when the time comes. Maybe she could add some “twists” for gags. She chuckled at that thought.

          Shannon and Darrell entered the kitchen calling for Raymond. The two outside the backyard heard, and went in.

          It was time to go home.

          And dang they’re late again.


	26. Friday: Broken House Codes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trio comes home and tried to eavesdrop on the ruckus down the basement.

          They pedalled with all their might, and didn’t let a breath halt until the figure of their house came to the horizon. When they arrived at home, they dumped their bikes in haste in the garage and then Darrell peeked his only eye in the kitchen. The coast was clear, they opened the door--their toes tipped, cautious of any noises they might make.

          They hid behind a wall first before peeking out to the living room and the entrance hall. They were about to go upstairs--to their respective rooms and act like they’ve been there the whole time--but then, the ruckus down the basement wasn’t something that they hear everyday; it wasn’t something to simply ignore.

          The door to it was wide open, and down there, there were voices heard. An easy recognition: it was Sara and their father. He sounded angry. But there seemed to be more voices they couldn’t identify because of the mix up.

          Curiosity and worry got them, so they took a peep. Only Shannon got to look, Darrell could barely see anything--if the three of them peeked together, they might get caught. Their father was in confrontation with Sara, who seemed to be explaining with hand gestures and incoherent words, and Mikayla and Ernesto was beside her as well. And looking closer, there were...strangers. Two strangers; one was a teal-haired and the other a ginger. Both looked hurt, judging from their bandages and weak stances.

          “--l-look, Dad, I couldn’t just ignore them! They were in the middle of the storm--”

          “No! I don’t care Sara--”

          “--wounded and starving--!”

          “--we have a rule here in the house! It is a code that is not something--”

          “--Dad! Listen to me! They weren’t in a good--”

          “--to simply break!”

          “--state!”

          Oh boy. This was certainly something that doesn’t happen everyday. Darrell leaned in his ear instead, while Shannon got the view. Raymond couldn’t get any, so he asked frequently, “What’s going on? Are they fighting?” Darrell replied, “Y-yeah. Something about our house code? That’s all I could get.”

          Shannon added in, as she sees and hears more, “There’s someone down there, two teenagers. I think Sara let them in when they were in the storm, and Dad’s not in favor of this...” Of course he wouldn’t. A house code is a house code, just like a family is a family. There were many house codes made specifically for safety and protection, but honestly? It was more for eternal house-bound contract and suffocation. But this code was one of them: Do not in under any circumstance let a stranger in their home, unless they are most trusted or they were approved by Father.

          Leaning in closer, she scooped some more information,

          “Just look at them! Do they look harmful to you?!”

          “Anybody can be anybody, Sara, and anyone can commit crimes behind puppy eyes! Who knows! Maybe they have some plan in their minds, or hidden knives on ankles--!” Then he checks their ankles and cupped their torsos for any sign of hard material.

          “H-Hey!” the ginger one said, “Dad!” Sara pulled him away. Ernesto and Mikayla just stood there, unable to do or say anything because they had nothing to. “Ugh! This is hypocrisy! They’re just teenagers--scarred and left cold in the storm--what can they possibly do?!”

          Boxman was about to retort, but she was quicker, “AND you haven’t heard the whole story just yet.”

          “You mean their believable _‘tear-jerking’_ back story? Oh honey, I’ve heard enough of those--”

          “How can you judge too soon?! I don’t get why you’re like this!”

          Ernesto sighed, and had decided to involve himself. Because if not, the topic may open the past again. Or worse, reopen old wounds. “Okay, okay, I think we’ve had enough for today,” He got in-between them, “I think Sara’s right for most parts Father,” She smiled, “I’m glad you understand.”

          “However, I think Father is right too, we can’t keep strangers in our home,”

          “You never know, Sara,”

          “--So! The conclusion is that they should stay overnight and leave tomorrow.”

          “Wait what?!” Both of them exclaimed. All while this was happening, Raymond didn’t notice two small boys creeping up behind them. And with these words, the trio jumped.

          “I am Jethro.”

          And lost balance and fell backwards, down to the basement. All those who occupied the basement turned heads to the pile of idiots. They groaned; it was a bad land but it won’t be anything but a small bump later. The two smaller brothers came down too.

          And now, they were all here.

          “A-Are you okay?” their eldest asked while Mikayla rushed to their side and helped them up. “And WHERE were you three?!” Oh crud. Their father stood before them, “Do you think I wouldn’t notice? You think I don’t have the keys to each of your rooms?!”

          “Well we never thought you were coming home so soon…” Darrell rubbed the back of his neck. He said the wrong answer. “OH! So that’s how you play it! Running off to _some place_  with _some strangers_ behind my back while I’m elsewhere! Without me knowing or asking for my permission! So where ya headed? Huh? Some teenage drug party?!”

          “Dad!”

          “We’re not like that!”

          “We would never, Coach Dad!”

          No one noticed, but the teal-haired boy twitched at the familiar voice. His friend kind of...recognized too. They looked over.

          “--we were just at Rad’s--” Raymond tried to reason.

          “Then why didn’t tell me sooner?!”

          “You wouldn’t have allowed us anyway! Ugh! I hate this house!” Shannon spat out angrily. “This is the fourth time you three broke a house code! And I can’t keep tolerating that!”

          “So what are you going to do, Dad?! Lock them in their rooms and never let them see sunlight the whole week?!” Ernesto joined in, unable to see his siblings helpless. Jethro and Teagan neither spoke or did something. They couldn’t, anyway. Everything unfolded right before them.

          “Yeah Dad! Can’t we have this little thing? These little breaks?” Darrell pleaded, and Shannon added in, “This is all we have! And we can’t ask for more than this!” Raymond supported, “Please, just this one, Coach Dad.”

          He couldn’t believe his eyes. It was him. It wasn’t anyone else, or anyone fake--it was actually him! From head to toe, from the way he dressed, and his voice--

          “I found you.”

          Everyone stopped. The neglected characters that was the spotlight earlier was in it once more. He had their attention, with that frail voice and a short sentence. And Raymond could finally see him, his eyes awake and wide open.

 

          No way.

 

          The two stared, unable to believe. The sight of the other was not sinking and processing in their minds. It must’ve taken one in a million to find him in a city unknown in which they landed without a choice. And they’ve got it. They had a miracle. Both boys couldn’t express the feeling they were supposed to have at this moment, because the feeling was not there. It was stuck somewhere, and now they felt nothing but shock.

          The siblings were perplexed, and so was the father. Two strangers having a stare-down, as if they have seen a dead man and stilled in fear.

          Except it wasn’t fear. It was now there. The tiny joy that was delayed.

          “I found you,” he repeated. With no more words, they ran in to a tight embrace in which the Boxman family was baffled with. The contact wasn’t welcoming and warm as they thought, if anything, it was harsh, like embracing thorns. And they bled but didn’t care, because they hadn’t noticed. It was too long--far too long--to even recognize the touch as a kin of own.

          But still, they were happy. Happy to see each other, even though now they felt like strangers. Was it that long? It can’t be, the stranger counted days and years, did he lose track? Raymond pulled away rather abruptly, then pierced him with eyes confounded, “H-How--I-Why, why are you h-here? How did you--How--”

          “Not happy to see me?”

          “Idiot! I am! I’m just...”

          Okay. Now things just got more confusing. The siblings were giving eye signals, waiting for one to break a question. Fortunately, the middle daughter, Shannon, spoke on their behalf, “I’m sorry, who is who again?”

          That’s when the first smile formed after all this in the midst of this mess.

          It was unsure whether to be happy or sad or angry, but it was just there, the smile. Raymond straightened his posture and his clothes, and then presented him and said,

          “Dad, brothers, sisters, this is Rob,” and then the ginger introduced himself as well, though very shy, “And I’m Gaston.” All attention was towards the three, so everyone heard nice and clear, “He’s my brother.”

          What.

          Jaws dropped, and the basement came devoid of any noise. Well this sounded like nonsense! “Raymond, what are you talking about? Are you trying to save his skin?” his father asked, unable to believe. For the two years Boxman had been a father to him--never had he told a single story about a brother. Actually, he never told anything about his past other than stumbling upon Lakewood.

          Raymond, with honesty, shook his head “He is my brother, and it’s been long since we last seen each other,” he turned his head to Rob, “I never…expected your arrival.” Now that you look at it, they do kind of looked similar. Both eyes were farther apart, their noses are pointy and so is the shape of their faces--it was like looking at a smaller version of Raymond. What a striking resemblance!

          His father couldn’t stand the thought that his son had a part of his life that he never told him. He didn’t tell the whole truth to him. “B-But--this can’t be all but a one big coincident! And if you really did have a brother, why did you never tell me anything?” Was…was he not trustworthy enough for a father?

          “It’s--It’s a long story, sir.”

          “I have... an unreasonable reason to not tell you. Any of you. I’m sorry, and I’m sorry too, Rob, Gaston.”

          So he did hide something from him--from his father and his whole family. And there another house code was broken, but for now, it was forgotten. All the confusion and tangles was cut off like a string to a scissor when Raymond, Rob and Gaston had reveal themselves. And the rain started once more.

          There was a long story to tell. But that will be for tomorrow; it’s been such a long day. For now, all of them rested and Rob and Gaston was allowed in for tonight. The father had trouble sleeping though, he was thinking about the trio sneaking off earlier and Sara breaking a house code and having two strangers sleeping downstairs and Rob and Raymond’s claim that they were brothers. He thought about Raymond a lot this night, and how he first found him, and the first things he said to him. He remembers everything, but couldn’t find any indication or hint of his past. How could he be so...

          Sigh.

          Decisions are to be made tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it's done! Whoop. The next part of the series will be a really long time before I complete it, but mark my words I am not abandoning this series and the long planning I've already written haha. If you have a reaction, it's okay to right it down. Thanks for reading! It's not a professional work, but I've tried. But really, thank you, it means much <3


End file.
